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THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF 
SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF 

SOCIAL 

RECONSTRUCTION 


BY 
GEORGE  THOMAS  WHITE  PATRICK,  Ph.D. 

Professor  of  Philosophy  in  the  State  University  of  Iowa  ; 
author  of  "The  Psychology  of  Relaxation" 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

(Cbe  lftiUer$i&e  prt0  (Cambridge 

1920 


zis^ 


COPYRIGHT,    I920,   BY   GEORGE   T.  W.    PATRICK 
ALL   RIGHTS    RESERVED 


tin 


TO 

M.  L.  P. 


PREFACE 

MACAULAY  in  his  essay  on  Lord  Bacon 
said  that  it  was  not  Bacon's  purpose  to 
make  men  perfect.  His  humble  aim  was  to  make 
imperfect  men  comfortable.  This  Baconian  phi- 
losophy, whose  aim  is  to  exploit  all  the  forces  of 
nature  for  the  comfort  and  convenience  of  man- 
kind, and  which  finds  happiness  not  in  the  exer- 
cise of  man's  highest  powers  but  in  the  release 
and  satisfaction  of  human  desires,  originally 
characterized  only  the  English-speaking  peoples, 
but  has  now  extended  to  the  whole  world. 

While  personally  I  believe  that  a  civilization 
based  on  such  a  foundation  as  this  is  artificial 
and  ephemeral,  nevertheless  to  write  a  book  to 
prove  this  would  be  a  thankless  task.  It  would  be 
just  a  sermon,  fruitful  of  nothing  but  yawns.  We 
do  not  now  look  with  very  much  alarm  at  such 
warnings  as  Civilization  at  the  Crossroads,  We 
are  not  greatly  impressed  when  we  are  told 
that  the  kind  of  society  which  the  social  reform- 
ers promise  us  is  not  such  a  society  as  we  ought 
to  have;  just  as  the  laborer  is  not  very  much 
impressed  when  the  capitalist  tells  him  that  his 
poverty  is  good  for  him. 


viii  PREFACE 

But  our  attitude  toward  science  is  a  wholly 
different  matter.  If  the  authority  of  religion, 
philosophy,  and  traditional  morality  has  some- 
what abated  in  these  days,  not  so  the  authority 
of  science.  The  emblems  of  authority  are  now 
all  its  own.  I  have  therefore  attempted  in  the 
following  pages  to  apply  certain  elementary 
principles  of  psychological  science  to  the  prob- 
lems of  social  reconstruction.  For  the  sake  of 
brevity,  I  have  used  the  title,  "The  Psychology 
of  Social  Reconstruction."  A  more  appropriate 
title  might  have  been,  "Preliminary  notes  on 
the  application  of  psychology  to  the  problem 
of  social  reconstruction  as  represented  in  cer- 
tain popular  movements  of  the  day." 

There  is,  of  course,  already  an  extensive  lit- 
erature on  the  psychology  of  social  reform  in 
its  larger  aspects.  I  have  quoted  from  some  of 
these  writings  in  the  pages  which  follow.  While  I 
have  hoped  to  make  a  further  slight  contribu- 
tion to  this  large  subject,  my  immediate  pur- 
pose has  been  the  examination  of  some  of  the 
current  and  popular  plans'  for  social  reform  in 
the  light  of  recent  psychological  studies — par- 
ticularly studies  in  certain  forms  of  instinc- 
tive human  behavior.  The  early  chapters  of  the 
book  are,  therefore,  largely  negative.    In   the 


PREFACE 


IX 


later  chapters  I  have  tried  to  indicate  my  own 
thought  as  to  the  direction  social  reconstruction 
should  take,  if  it  is  to  conform  to  the  facts  of 
human  nature. 

Two  of  the  chapters  in  this  book  have  ap- 
peared as  magazine  articles  in  a  slightly  differ- 
ent form.  I  wish  to  thank  the  editors  of  The  Sci- 
entific Monthly  and  Natural  History  for  permis- 
sion to  use  the  articles  entitled,  respectively, 
"The  Next  Step  in  Applied  Science,"  and  "Our 
Centrifugal  Society."  Certain  parts  of  the  sec- 
ond, third,  and  fourth  chapters  were  published 
in  The  Scientific  Monthly  in  an  article  entitled 
"The  Psychology  of  Social  Reconstruction." 

G.  T.  W.  P. 

Iowa  City 
August  I,  1920 


CONTENTS 

I.  Introduction  i 

II.  Psychological  Factors  in  Social  Re- 
construction 27 

III.  Psychological  Factors  in  Social  Re- 

construction (continued)  61 

IV.  Psychological  Factors  in  Social  Re- 

construction (continued)  90 

V.  The  Psychology  of  Work  119 

VI.  Our  Centrifugal  Society  174 

VII.  Social  Discipline  199 

VIII.  The  Next  Step  in  Applied  Science         237 

Index  261 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF 

SOCIAL 

RECONSTRUCTION 


CHAPTER  I 
INTRODUCTION 

THAT  the  Freudian  psychology  has  a  social 
application  no  one  can  doubt  who  has  care- 
fully observed  the  world's  progress  during  the 
last  ten  or  twenty  years.  It  was  really  about  the 
time  the  dancing  craze  burst  upon  us  that  the 
reaction  began.  When  we  look  back  upon  those 
tango  days,  they  seem  quite  innocent  and  mild 
as  compared  with  the  present;  but  it  was  a  wild 
orgy  then. 

It  will  be  only  the  youngest  of  us  who  cannot 
recall  the  exalted  social  mood  in  which  we  lived 
in  the  early  years  of  this  century.  The  moral 
fervor  of  our  heroic  action  in  banishing  slavery 
was  still  upon  us.  We  were  thrilled  by  a  new 
zeal  for  breaking  also  the  chains  of  alcohol.  We 


2  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

were  still  priding  ourselves  upon  our  wonderful 
schools  and  our  remarkable  freedom  from  il- 
literacy. We  dimly  remembered  the  horrors  of 
war,  but  we  were  providing  against  any  such 
calamity  as  a  great  war  by  means  of  peace  so- 
cieties and  arbitration  treaties!  Most  of  all,  per- 
haps, we  were  exulting  in  the  almost  miraculous 
results  of  the  industrial  revolution.  We  had'  at 
last  gained  complete  mastery  over  the  forces  of 
nature.  Earth  and  sky  and  water  were  subserv- 
ient to  man.  Science  and  invention,  the  mar- 
velous bequests  of  the  nineteenth  century,  were 
the  keys  to  a  kind  of  terrestrial  paradise  just 
opening  to  us.  Best  of  all,  the  economic  surplus 
promised  to  put  an  end  forever  to  the  old  pain- 
economy,  in  which  the  world  had  always  lived, 
and  we  had  visions  of  a  pleasure-economy  to 
extend  to  all  lands  and  classes.  In  fact  we  were 
all  aglow  with  enthusiasm  for  something  which 
we  called  "modern  civilization." 

Furthermore,  we  were  really  living  up  to  our 
high  ideals.  We  had  ourselves  well  in  hand. 
There  was  a  high  standard  of  morals  and  a  high 
degree  of  refinement.  It  was  relatively  a  period 
of  self-control,  temperance,  thrift,  and  decency. 
Although  beer,  wine,  and  distilled  liquors  were 
everywhere  to  be  had  and  at  a  moderate  price, 


INTRODUCTION  3 

we  were  as  a  people  temperate  and  restrained.1 
The  house  of  "modern  civilization"  looked  so 
genuine  and  solid  that  we  never  suspected  that 
what  we  saw  was  just  a  veneer.  We  were  ig- 
norant of  the  new  psychology  that  tells  us  now 
of  the  danger  when  deep  racial  impulses  are 
merely  suppressed  and  not  properly  sublimated 
and  redirected. 

It  was  the  first  symptom  of  the  reaction  when 
the  dancing  craze  burst  upon  us.  From  our  puri- 
tan standpoint  we  were  shocked  when  the  whole 
world  took  to  dancing,  and  not  very  decorous 
dancing  at  that.  Some  thought  that  the  whole 
world  had  suddenly  gone  crazy.  But  this  was 
only  the  beginning,  for  it  was  soon  followed  by 
the  nation-wide  and  world-wide  amusement 
crazes.  In  those  staid  and  proper  early  days  of 
the  century,  had  some  prophet  foretold  that  ten 
to  fifteen  million  people  in  the  United  States 
would  very  soon  be  in  daily  attendance  upon 

1  In  those  days  we  used  to  hear  about  the  delicate  aroma  of 
old  wines  and  burgundies,  the  rich  and  mellow  taste  of  rare  old 
whiskies,  and  the  tonic  nutritive  value  of  ales  and  beers  made  from 
good  barley  and  hops.  But  now  all  this  ancient  camouflage  has  been 
brushed  away  and  men  have  discovered  that  what  they  want  is 
alcohol,  and  the  larger  percentage  of  it  the  better.  Even  for  two  and 
three  quarters  per  cent  they  have  shown  themselves  ready  to  wage 
a  determined  and  persistent  fight.  This  self-revelation  has  been 
humiliating  and  disillusioning,  but  self-knowledge  such  as  this  will  be 
valuable  in  the  social  reconstruction  of  the  future. 


4  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

moving-picture  shows  exhibiting  no  high  dra- 
matic art,  but  for  the  most  part  tawdry,  sensa- 
tional, and  e'rotic,  the  story  would  have  been  as 
incredible  as  that  in  fewer  years  than  twenty 
there  would  be  a  great  world  war  whose  direct 
and  indirect  cost  would  be  estimated  at  the 
unbelievable  sum  of  three  hundred  and  thirty- 
eight  thousand  million  dollars  and  in  which 
fifty-nine  million  men  would  be  called  to  arms 
and  seven  and  one  half  million  killed. 

Had  the  curtain  been  drawn  still  farther 
aside,  revealing  the  hosts  of  shameless  profiteers 
and  the  sudden  rush  for  new  wealth  both  during 
and  after  the  war;  revealing  still  further  the 
harsh  and  ugly  picture  of  post-war  conditions, 
the  scramble  for  territory  and  power  in  Europe, 
the  avarice,  the  cynicism  and  the  deceit,  the  sac- 
rifice of  human  rights  to  national  aggrandize- 
ment, the  low  cunning  of  European  diplomacy,1 
the  frenzy  ofc  spending  as  well  as  the  greed  for 
gain  in  America,  the  sacrifice  of  great  world  re- 
forms to  petty  politics  and  party,  the  silly  and 
childish  behavior  of  many  of  our  American 
people  when  their  self-made  dry-laws  began  to 

1  Compare  articles  by  E.  Alexander  Powell,  "The  New  Frontiers  of 
Freedom,"  Scribneis  Magazine,  January,  February,  and  March, 
1920. 


INTRODUCTION  5 

close  down  upon  them,  in  their  absurd  scramble 
for  a  last  drink  or  for  a  stay  of  the  enforcement 
of  the  laws,  if  only  for  a  few  weeks  or  days  ■ — 
had  all  these  things  been  foreseen,  those  good 
people  of  just  one  short  generation  past  would 
have  said  that  such  sudden  madness  of  men 
could  be  explained  only  by  some  new  and  strange 
astronomical  influences. 

But  the  explanation  is  much  simpler.  It  was 
a  case  not  of  stars  but  of  brain  cells.  It  was  a 
case  of  a  certain  kind  of  culture  spread  over  the 
surface  of  a  great  body  of  deep  racial  instincts 
and  desires.  It  was  a  case  of  getting  civilized 
too  rapidly,  when  civilization  is  understood 
merely  as  a  kind  of  social  decorum.  In  those  days 
society  was  simply  being  given  a  course  in  man- 
ners, instead  of  having  its  deep  latent  energies 
redirected  into  healthy  channels  by  moral,  aes- 
thetic, and  social  ideals.  These  energies  being 
suppressed  were  still  working  subterraneously, 
resulting  in  a  social  "complex,"  which  took  the 
form  of  the  violent  outbreaks  mentioned.  So- 
ciety, as  well  as  individuals,  may  be  subject 
to  nervous  disorders  and  have  its  suppressed 
"wish." 

But  what  is  to  happen?  Were  these  waves  of 


6  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

frivolity  and  this  "dose  of  savagery"  a  kind  of 
"fling,"  which  was  necessary  to  restore  the  so- 
cial balance,  and  has  society  suffered  a  sort  of 
katharsis,  which  will  leave  it  purified  and  har- 
monious? Was  it  merely  a  case  of  social  tension, 
which  has  now  been  relieved  by  a  period  of  ex- 
cess? Are  the  suppressed  desires  now  "working 
themselves  off,"  so  that  we  may  soon  expect  a 
return  to  normal  healthy  conditions? 

Although  neither  the  analogy  of  the  Freudian 
psychology  nor  the  social  experience  of  the  past 
warrants  such  a  hope,  nevertheless  something 
like  this  may  take  place.  There  are  hopeful  con- 
ditions, as  we  shall  presently  see,  that  greatly 
redeem  the  outlook.  I  am  not  interested  here 
in  predicting  either  a  great  social  disaster  or  the 
speedy  return  of  social  calm  and  serenity.  Prob- 
ably neither  will  happen.  I  am  interested  only 
in  noting  the  amazing  change  which  has  taken 
place  in  respect  to  our  confidence  about  the 
future.  Formerly  a  few  croaking  pessimists  and 
alarmists  used  to  amuse  us  by  predicting  the 
downfall  of  our  civilization.  We  were  amused 
rather  than  alarmed  by  these  predictions,  be- 
cause we  had  been  taught  to  believe,  and  with 
boundless  pride,  that  we  were  just  entering  upon 
a  glorious  period  of  human  progress  under  the 


INTRODUCTION  7 

safe  guidance  of  science  and  the  mechanic  arts 
and  through  the  final  long-sought  freedom,  equal- 
ity, and  fraternity.  Now  we  are  suddenly  told  — 
and  not  by  alarmists  nor  pessimists,  but  by  some 
of  those  who  represent  the  clearest  thought  of 
the  day  —  that  our  whole  western  civilization 
is  in  grave  danger,  if  not  near  its  end. 

A  writer  in  a  recent  number  of  the  "Man- 
chester Guardian"  says  of  the  present  times, 
"It  is  the  kind  of  situation  in  which  former 
civilizations  have  gone  down."  The  Rt.  Hon. 
C.  F.  G.  Masterman,  writing  in  the  "Atlantic 
Monthly"  for  August,  1919,  after  a  long  and 
careful  review  of  the  situation  in  England,  uses 
these  significant  words: 

The  shadows  lie  heavy  on  the  hills.  It  will  be  years, 
it  may  be  decades,  before  these  shadows  are  dispelled. 
It  may  be  that  never  will  they  be  completely  dis- 
pelled. These  four  years  of  mad  destruction  may 
have  struck  a  blow  at  Europe's  prosperity  from 
which  it  will  never  recover.  Some  of  the  greatest  of 
the  Dominion  statesmen  have  expressed  to  me  their 
conviction  that  the  result  will  be  a  permanent  change. 
They  foresee  a  great  and  increasing  migration  from 
Great  Britain,  and  indeed  from  all  the  war-tortured 
countries,  of  people  fleeing  from  national  bankruptcy 
in  a  region  haunted  by  evil  dreams.  From  such  a 
migration  they  anticipate  the  building-up  of  huge 
white  communities  in  still  unsettled  lands,  which 
will  give  a  new  orientation  to  the  world's  future  his- 


8  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

tory.  Canada,  South  Africa,  Australasia,  will  take 
the  place  in  this  war  which  was  taken  by  the  West  af- 
ter the  Civil  War  in  America.  However  this  may  be, 
at  home  we  are  in  for  troublous  times.  Reconstruction 
far  more  vital  and  profound  than  anything  contem- 
plated by  the  present  Parliament  alone  can  insure 
internal  tranquillity. 

Similar  testimony  could  be  quoted  from  a 
long  list  of  careful  writers  whom  no  one  would 
call  alarmists. 

In  discussing  a  question  of  this  kind  prelim- 
inary to  our  study  of  reconstruction,  we  must 
avoid  on  the  one  hand  a  too  easy  optimism  such 
as  prevailed  two  decades  ago,  and  on  the  other 
hand  an  unnecessary  pessimism  due  to  the  re- 
sults of  the  war.  In  these  chapters  I  wish  to  study 
certain  social  and  psychological  forces  which 
were  at  work  before  the  war  and  which  will  go 
on  hereafter  whatever  the  result  of  the  war  may 
be.  I  am  considering  here  not  any  kind  of  tem- 
porary reconstruction  which  shall  reinstate  eco- 
nomic conditions  as  they  were  before  the  war, 
but  social  reconstruction  in  the  broader  sense  of 
social,  political,  and  economic  movements  de- 
signed to  correct  evils  inherent  in  our  modern 
life.  We  live  in  the  hope  that  Europe  may  be 
able  to  recover  herself  after  her  terrible  convul- 
sion, and  that  America  may  in  part  escape  the 


INTRODUCTION  9 

price  which  Europe  must  at  any  rate  pay.  We 
may,  therefore,  here  omit  the  darker  picture  of 
conditions  in  European  capitals  which  so  many 
writers  have  so  vividly  drawn,1  and  do  so  in  the 
hope  —  a  hope  perhaps  not  fully  justified  —  that 
the  waves  of  crimes  both  of  passion  and  of  vio- 
lence, the  unrestrained  and  unashamed  revelry 
and  frivolity,  the  reckless  extravagance  and  fool- 
ish spending,  the  barbaric  and  childish  display, 
the  apparent  complete  loss  of  the  sense  of  social 
obligation,  are  merely  manifestations  of  an  acute 
nervous  disease  due  to  the  strain  of  those  terrible 
years  of  war  and  that  the  healing  will  speedily 
come.  As  the  war  passes  into  the  background, 
as  production  is  resumed,  as  order  is  restored, 
these  things  will  cease  to  be  so  much  in  evidence. 
Possibly  for  that  very  reason  we  may  become 
forgetful  of  certain  real  dangers  that  threaten 
the  integrity  of  our  modern  society. 

What  are  these  dangers?  That  they  are  real 
and  threatening  even  the  most  optimistically 
inclined  cannot  doubt.  What  has  seemed  to  us 
sometimes  the  most  imminent  danger,  the  tri- 
umph of  Bolshevism,  Communism,  or  Anarchy, 

1  Compare,  for  instance,  the  article  by  Sisley  Huddleston,  in 
the  Atlantic  Monthly  for  May,  1930,  entitled  "  The  Menace  of  the 
World." 


io  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

may  be  really  the  least  of  the  dangers  which 
threaten  our  civilization.  In  a  country  brought 
to  the  very  verge  of  ruin  by  war,  it  is  conceiv- 
able that  these  movements  might  be  the  occa- 
sion of  the  final  downfall,  but  the  real  cause 
they  could  hardly  be.  If  Bolshevism  and  simi- 
lar movements  may  occasionally  have  the  op- 
portunity of  trying  themselves  out,  we  shall 
soon  learn  how  quickly  they  fuse  into  old  social 
orders,  how  human  nature  triumphs  over  eco- 
nomic theory,  how  the  old  social  and  political 
relations  and  the  old  evils,  too,  remain  much 
the  same. 

The  real  dangers  lie  deeper;  they  lie  even 
deeper  than  war,  although  we  are  beginning  to 
learn  that  it  may  indeed  be  war  which  will  over- 
throw our  civilization.  War  has  lost  all  its  glam- 
our. In  primitive  times,  and  to  some  extent 
throughout  human  history,  war  has  had  a  vital- 
izing and  salutary  effect  on  the  human  race, 
encouraging  manly  virtues  and  eliminating  the 
weak  and  unfit.  Now  all  this  is  changed.  A  mod- 
ern war  is  a  human  scourge.  It  is  a  decivilizing 
agency.  Its  effects  are  deadening  and  paralyzing. 
It  eliminates  not  the  unfit  but  the  fit.  It  selects 
for  its  slaughter  the  prime  young  men  of  all  the 
nations.  Its  cost  is  so  terrific  that  it  buries  pos- 


INTRODUCTION  u 

terity  under  a  crushing  debt.  It  idealizes  all  the 
mediaeval  virtues  —  physical  bravery,  personal 
sacrifice,  unbounding  sympathy,  and  group  an- 
tagonism. It  retards  perhaps  for  a  hundred 
years  the  virtues  upon  which  the  health  and  in- 
tegrity of  modern  society  depend  —  commercial 
honesty,  sexual  purity,  international  amity, 
temperance,  and  thrift. 

And  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  effect  of  a  mod- 
ern war  upon  the  vanquished  is  worse  than  upon 
the  victors.  The  pitiful  picture  of  poverty,  the 
impoverishment  of  land  and  of  natural  resources, 
the  waste  and  depletion  of  human  vitality,  the 
despair  and  discouragement  of  the  vanquished 
are  not  much  worse  than  the  hate  and  revenge, 
the  greed  and  the  avarice,  the  profligate  spend- 
ing and  the  moral  deterioration  of  the  victors. 
Another  great  war  may  reduce  the  world  to 
barbarism. 

But  there  is  another  danger  even  greater  than 
war  which  threatens  our  modern  civilization, 
and  that  is  decadence  —  physical,  mental,  and 
moral.  There  is  evidence  of  all  of  these  which 
no  thoughtful  man  can  ignore.  There  is  danger 
that  physical  degeneracy  will  follow  upon  our 
sedentary  manner  of  living,  upon  the  increase 
of  wealth,  ease,  and  luxury.  There  is  danger  that 


12  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

mental  degeneracy  will  follow  upon  the  reversal 
of  the  law  of  survival  which  in  the  past  has 
eliminated  the  mentally  unfit.  There  is  danger  of 
moral  degeneracy  in  the  period  of  readjustment 
from  religious  to  purely  ethical  sanctions  of  con- 
duct.1 

The  decline  of  the  birth-rate  among  our  ef- 
fective stocks,  the  disastrous  results  of  modern 
philanthropy  upon  racial  health,  the  rapid  in- 
crease of  subnormals,  defectives,  ■  and  ineffec- 
tives  of  all  kinds,  the  devastation  of  racial  values 
by  the  war,  the  exhaustion  of  racial  reserves 
such  as  in  ancient  times  replaced  the  decadent 

1  The  most  serious  aspect  of  this  moral  decadence  is  seen  in  the 
wave  of  bad  music  which  has  been  sweeping  the  country  and  the 
world.  The  psychology  of  the  jazz  music  —  that  is,  the  ground  of 
its  powerful  appeal  —  has  not  yet  been  worked  out.  When  this 
is  done  its  explanation  will  probably  be  found  to  rest  on  anthropo- 
logical grounds.  It  is  barbaric  music  —  literally,  not  figuratively. 
It  recalls  echoes  of  the  ancient  camp-fire  with  its  barbaric  synco- 
pated strains  and  its  accompanying  dance,  in  which  the  sex  ele- 
ment is  predominant.  The  dancing  craze  of  the  present  time,  and 
the  rag  and  jazz,  are  not,  then,  to  be  regarded  merely  as  one  phase 
of  the  moral  decadence  which  follows  a  war,  nor  passed  by  whim- 
sically as  a  temporary  craze,  having,  to  be  sure,  disastrous  moral 
consequences,  but  condoned  or  excused  as  a  passing  fad.  They 
are  to  be  considered  as  reversions  to  a  primitive  culture  and  to 
primitive  morals  indicating  that  the  upward  urge  of  progress  is 
ceasing.  If  this  interpretation  of  the  case  be  correct,  it  is  a  most 
serious  indictment  of  our  times  and  our  civilization.  Let  us  hope 
that  it  is  not  true,  but  that  it  is  due  to  a  temporary  social  fatigue 
of  the  higher  brain  centers  resulting  from  the  pressure  of  our  tense 
and  rapid  living. 


INTRODUCTION  13 

Romans,  —  all  these  present  problems  com- 
pared with  which  the  economic  questions  of  the 
day  appear  unimportant.  According  to  Mr.  Seth 
K.  Humphrey,1  if  it  could  be  conceived  that 
society  should  so  arouse  itself  to  its  dangers  as 
to  see  to  it  that  the  two  million  defectives  and 
the  three  million  border-liners  or  inefFectives  in 
the  United  States  should,  either  by  sequestra-1 
tion,  or  in  other  ways,  be  prevented  from  further 
contributing  to  the  deterioration  of  our  racial 
stock,  while  we  should  be  saved  from  the  danger 
of  racial  degeneracy,  we  should  still  be  con- 
demned to  mediocrity,  owing  to  our  increasing 
number  of  "racial  slackers." 
.  Without  passing  judgment  here  upon  the  ac- 
curacy of  these  views,  we  see  that  taken  all  to- 
gether there  are  dangers  enough  which  threaten 
our  civilization.  Other  civilizations  have  per- 
ished under  circumstances  not  essentially  dif- 
ferent. 

Of  course  at  this  point  the  question  might 
be  raised  whether  our  civilization  is,  anyway, 
worth  saving.  If  it  is  not,  we  need  trouble  our- 
selves no  further.  Lately  there  has  been  a  general 
awakening  to  the  fact  that  our  so-called  modern 
1  See  his  recent  book  entitled  The  Racial  Prospect. 


i4  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

culture  is  after  all  nothing  very  wonderful.  Even 
before  the  war  we  had  begun  to  doubt  whether 
the  great  hopes  of  the  nineteenth  century  for  the 
regeneration  of  the  world  through  science,  inven- 
tion, and  the  conquest  of  nature,  and  through 
the  economic  surplus,  were  to  be  realized.  What 
are  the  final  tests  of  a  high  civilization  ?  If  they 
are  found  in  a  social  system  which  offers  a  just 
distribution  of  wealth  and  opportunity,  we  are 
told  that  our  present  system  is  a  failure.  If  they 
are  found  in  art  and  morals,  we  have  neither  in 
high  degree.  If  they  are  found  in  peace  and  social 
stability,  what  we  see  is  war  and  social  unrest. 
If  they  are  found  in  physical  stamina  and  racial 
health,  we  recall  the  humiliating  revelations  of 
the  physical  examinations  of  our  five  millions 
of  drafted  soldiers,  showing  one  third  of  them 
physically  unfit.  If  they  are  found  in  universal 
education,  we  remember  that  twenty-five  per 
cent  of  our  young  men  called  to  the  colors  were 
found  to  be  illiterate.1 

1  "Illiteracy  suddenly  revealed  itself  as  a  national  handicap 
when  we  found  that  the  two  hundred  thousand  illiterates  drawn 
into  the  training  camps  appreciably  delayed  our  military  prepara- 
tions. The  pitiable  inefficiency  of  a  school  system  in  which  one 
fourth  of  all  the  teachers  are  scarcely  more  than  boys  and  girls 
themselves  finds  an  ominous  parallel  in  the  fact  that  one  fourth  of 
the  drafted  men  were  reported  as  being  unable  to  write  an  intelligi- 
ble letter  or  read'a  newspaper  intelligently."  (W.  C.  Bagley,  in  The 
New  Republic,  December  17,  1919,  p.  89.) 


INTRODUCTION  15 

Is  such  a  civilization  worth  the  saving?  No 
one  with  the  slightest  acquaintance  with  history 
will  hesitate  in  his  answer  to  this  question.  We 
may  realize  to  the  full  the  defects  of  our  civi- 
lization, we  may  realize  the  much  advertised 
inequalities  of  our  social  system  —  nevertheless 
every  one  knows  that  our  civilization  is  worth 
saving  and  must  be  saved.  When  all  is  said, 
there  has  been  for  some  centuries  a  rather  steady 
growth  in  the  things  which  we  have  come  to 
prize  —  freedom,  opportunity,  security,  physi- 
cal comforts,  medical,  surgical,  and  dental  serv- 
ice, control  of  contagious  diseases,  household 
conveniences,  conveniences  of  travel  and  com- 
munication, a  world-wide  news  service,  the  pass- 
ing of  fear  and  superstition,  educational  facili- 
ties for  our  children,  constantly  increasing  rights 
and  privileges  of  women,  and  so  on  through  the 
long  list.  We  should  not  care  again  to  face  hunger 
and  cold  and  constant  fear,  nor  should  we  be 
willing  to  sacrifice  the  security  which  law  and 
order  during  the  longer  and  longer  intervals  of 
peace  have  gained  for  our  women  and  children 
and  for  our  lives  and  property.  When  radical 
social  reformers  clamor  for  the  overthrow  of  our 
present  social  system  and  arraign  it  as  a  system 
of  slavery  and  poverty  and  cruel  injustice,  it  is 


16  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

evident  that  they  use  these  terms  relatively, 
having  in  mind  some  ideal  social  order  in  which 
all  our  present  freedom  and  security  and  our 
comforts  and  conveniences  are  to  be  retained 
and  the  glaring  imperfections  removed.  Com- 
paring our  present  well-being  with  any  epoch 
in  the  past,  we  are  certainly  happy  in  our  posses- 
sion of  all  those  things  which  we  most  prize.  If 
on  every  side  we  see  greed  and  jealousy  and  in- 
equality and  injustice  and  poverty  and  want  and 
crime  and  unrest,  it  is  only  necessary  to  look 
back  over  the  road  that  mankind  has  traveled 
to  find  at  every  station  of  the  journey  more  of 
each  and  all  of  these.  It  would  be  wholesome  for 
us  more  often  to  look  back  and  compare  the 
degree  of  social  welfare  which  we  enjoy  with 
that  of  former  times.  It  was  not  many  centuries 
ago,  for  instance,  that  the  English  peasants 
lived  in  hovels  with  dirt  floors,  slept  on  a  pile  of 
straw,  and  were  afflicted  with  vermin. 

Far  more  noteworthy  than  the  security,  the 
freedom,  and  the  comforts  of  the  present  age  — 
which  themselves  may  be  indirectly  sources  of 
danger  —  are  its  idealism  and  its  visions  of  better 
things.  When,  for  instance,  we  think  of  our  dis- 
appointed hopes  in  the  Treaty  of  Versailles, 
when  we  are  humiliated  by  the  spectacle  of 


INTRODUCTION  17 

hatred,  greed,1  and  revenge,  and  the  display  of 
narrow  and  selfish  nationalism  which  displaced 
the  fine  idealism  of  the  early  years  of  the  war, 
we  are  ready  to  despair  of  any  progress  and  to 
condemn  our  whole  modern  civilization.  But 
we  forget  that  hatred,  greed,  and  revenge  are 
familiar  things  in  the  history  of  the  world,  while 
the  idealism  itself  is  something  new.  In  the  year 
1 91 4  the  world  was  stirred  to  its  depths  by  an 
idealism  which  was  the  very  fruitage  of  twenty 
centuries  of  Christian  civilization;  that  this  re- 
volt against  autocracy,  this  mighty  cry  for  fair 
play  and  justice  and  democracy  which  later  was 
embodied  in  the  fourteen  points  was  possible  at 
all  as  a  great  world  movement  redeems  the  pic- 
ture, at  any  rate  to  some  extent,  and  holds  out 
great  promise  for  the  future.  In  spite  of  our  self- 
ish strife  for  personal  advantage,  there  is  grad- 
ually emerging  a  social  conscience.  In  spite  of 
our  frenzied  nationalism,  there  is  slowly  arising 
a  spirit  of  international  brotherhood. 

But  our  civilization  is  redeemed  not  merely  by 
its  idealism,  not  merely  by  its  material  blessings, 
but  even  more  by  its  charity,  its  sympathy,  its 
faith,  and  its  heroism.  Grossness  there  is  indeed 

1  "Imbecile  greed"  is  what  John  Maynard  Keynes  calls  it.  See 
his  book,  The  Economic  Consequences  of  the  Peace,  p.  147, 


1 8  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

a  plenty,  but  "above  all  this  grossness  there 
towers  a  sweetness  and  beauty  of  thought,  and 
an  earnestness  of  purpose,  a  sincerity  of  effort, 
which  makes  the  present  time  fuller  of  moral 
purpose,  fuller  of  desire  to  be  clean  and  to  help 
others  to  be  clean,  than  graced  any  previous 
period  in  the  history  of  either  England  or 
America."  1 

One  of  the  reasons  that  our  civilization  seems 
so  fraught  with  danger  is  the  startling  rapidity 
of  social  changes  at  the  present  time.  The  chang- 
ing social  order  has  become  a  commonplace 
in  speech  and  writing,  but  although  the  world 
is  at  present  changing  with  kaleidoscopic,  yes, 
with  cinematographic  rapidity,  it  is  comforting 
to  observe  that  up  to  the  present  there  is  nothing 
in  these  changes  to  be  greatly  alarmed  about. 
Some  of  them,  such  as  the  enormous  burden  of 
bonded  indebtedness  being  piled  up  now  by 
states,  cities,  corporations,  etc.,  and  the  appar- 
ent growing  laxity  in  some  departments  of 
morals,  are  causes  for  apprehension  certainly. 
These  changes  have  to  do  with  rather  profound 
aspects  of  our  social  life  and  may  stand  in  the 
way  of  progress  or  result  in  some  kind  of  social 

.  '  Samuel  C.  Schmucker,    The  Meaning  of  Evolution,  p.  256. 


INTRODUCTION  19 

stagnation,  not  catastrophic  so  much  as  insidi- 
ously weakening.  But  when  we  contemplate  the 
actual  changes  in  our  social  order  up  to  date, 
we  must  admit  that  for  the  most  part  they  are 
changes  for  the  better. 

Consider,  for  instance,  the  actual  steps  that 
have  been  taken  in  the  socialization  and  democ- 
ratization of  the  world.  However  sinister  or 
beneficent  the  extreme  socialization  and  democ- 
ratization which  is  proposed  may  be,  what  has 
really  happened  thus  far  is  a  change  for  the 
better.  Favorable  also  are  the  actual  steps  which 
have  been  taken  in  the  securing  of  social  justice 
by  establishing  a  legal  minimum  wage;  in  con- 
ceding the  right  of  labor  to  organize  and  act 
collectively;  in  putting  increased  taxation  upon 
large  fortunes,  incomes,  and  inheritances;  in 
the  institution  of  numerous  successful  plans 
for  harmonizing  the  interests  of  capital  and 
labor  in  many  large  manufacturing  concerns;  in 
making  and  enforcing  laws  against  child  labor; 
in  providing  adequate  and  sanitary  houses;  in 
banishing  the  unsightly  and  evil-smelling  saloon 
from  American  towns  and  cities;  in  the  en- 
franchisement of  women  and  in  their  greatly 
enlarged  sphere  of  action  and  influence  in  so- 
ciety; in  the  noteworthy  steps  which  have  been 


20  .SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

taken  in  physical  training,  particularly  for  women 
and  girls;  and  in  the  advent  of  some  degree  of 
common  sense  in  respect  to  dress.  This  list  of 
happy  changes  could  be  greatly  enlarged,  as 
everybody  knows,  and  these  grateful  facts,  even 
though  we  are  still  convinced  that  our  civiliza- 
tion is  in  danger,  may  ease  our  anxiety  a  good 
deal.1 

Then  there  is  another  alleviating  considera- 
tion. It  may  be  that  it  is  not  so  much  that  our 
social  evils  have  increased,  as  that  sensitiveness 
to  them  has  increased.  Long  before  the  war  it 
had  come  to  be  believed  that  society  was  on  the 
sick-list,  needing  drastic  treatment,  if  not  a 
major  operation.  We  had  become  painfully  con- 
scious of  certain  social  "evils,"  and  our  atten- 
tion was  fixed  more  and  more  upon  certain 
loudly  advertised  "cures"  for  them.  Among 
these  evils  were  the  unequal  distribution  of 
wealth  and  opportunity,  the  constant  clashes 
between  labor  and  capital,  the  unjust  exclusion 
of  women  from  political  and  economic  privi- 
leges, the  alcohol  evil,  social  diseases,  poverty, 

1  Whoever  is  pessimistically  inclined  about  social  progress 
should  read  that  excellent  little  book  by  Edward  A.  Ross,  What  is 
America,  and  also  the  book  by  Walter  E.  Weyl,  The  New  Democ- 
racy, especially  chapter  xiv,  and  the  recent  work  of  Nicholas 
Murray  Butler,  Is  America  Worth  Saving? 


INTRODUCTION  21 

crime,  and  the  falling  birth-rate.  Among  the  pro- 
posed "cures"  were  the  further  extension  of 
Democracy,  Socialism,  Syndicalism,  Votes  for 
Women,  National  Prohibition,  Cooperation,  and 
Industrial  Democracy. 

Then  came  the  war,  and  at  once  our  attention 
was  focused  upon  this  as  the  worst  evil  of  all. 
That  such  an  awful  calamity  could  suddenly 
befall  the  world  increased  still  further  our  dis- 
trust of  our  whole  social  system,  and  we  began 
at  once  to  search  for  some  cure  for  this  further 
evil,  and  hoped  to  find  it  in  a  League  of  Nations, 
international  agreements,  and  the  self-determi- 
nation of  peoples. 

It  is  characteristic  of  our  age  to  be  peculiarly 
sensitive  to  its  evils.  This  sickening  feeling  that 
the  world  is  in  a  very  bad  way  and  needs  redemp- 
tion is  illustrated  in  the  book  written  by  Alfred 
Russel  Wallace  shortly  before  his  death,  in  which 
he  bewailed  the  degeneracy  of  the  times,  dwell- 
ing upon  the  prevalence  of  poverty  and  crime, 
and  frightful  social  diseases,  and  social  injustice, 
in  a  note  almost  of  despair.1 

Certainly  it  is  a  hopeful  sign  that  we  have 
become  so  sensitive  to  injustice,  so  conscious 
of  social  evils,  so  intolerant  of  wrong-doing,  so 

1  Social  Environment  and  Moral  Progress,  chaps,  vin-xn. 


22  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

repelled  by  the  horrors  of  war,  that  our  own  era, 
which  is  really  clean  and  wholesome  and  peace- 
ful and  righteous  as  compared  with  past  periods 
in  human  history,  seems  to  us  so  imperfect.  Thus 
there  is,  at  any  rate,  this  element  of  hope  in  the 
situation  that  there  must  be  some  spark  of  divin- 
ity in  the  human  mind,  since  we  compare  the 
present,  not  with  the  real  past,  but  always  with 
an  ideal  future. 

The  special  characteristic  of  our  time  is,  there- 
fore, not  the  presence  of  evils,  of  which,  to  be  sure, 
there  are  quite  enough,  but  the  peculiar  con- 
sciousness of  them  and  the  resolute  will  to  cure 
them  —  a  will  so  persistent  and  so  determined 
that  it  is  certain  that  the  twentieth  century  will 
see  profound  changes  in  our  social  order.  But 
it  does  not  follow  necessarily  that  these  changes 
will  be  beneficial.  They  will  be  experimental,  and 
the  prophet  of  social  catastrophe  may  well  ques- 
tion whether  the  radical  experiments  which  it 
is  proposed  to  make  in  social  reform  may  not 
prove  to  be  destructive  of  the  civilization  which 
we  have.  This  is  the  first  time  in  history  that 
man  has  consciously  and  with  determined  pur- 
pose entered  upon  the  task  of  directing  his  own 
fortunes.  Hitherto  he  has  been  a  puppet  in  the 
hands  of  cosmic  forces  —  evolution,  climate,  the 


INTRODUCTION  23 

struggle  for  existence;  the  industrial  revolution 
wrought  by  mechanical  inventions  and  by  the 
discovery  of  coal,  iron,  and  petroleum;  and, 
finally,  the  retroactive  influences  of  the  Ameri- 
can and  Pacific  frontiers.  Now  the  period  of 
conscious  control  has  come. 

But  is  this  conscious  control  to  be  intelligent 
control,  or  is  it  to  be  the  kind  which  the  newly 
rich  suddenly  acquire  over  their  material  sur- 
roundings? So  far  as  we  can  see  at  present,  the 
era  of  intelligent  control  lies  far  in  the  future, 
and  the  control  which  is  to  mark  the  twentieth 
century  will  spring  from  an  impulsive  idealism 
characterized  by  a  keen  sensitiveness  to  our 
present  social  evils,  rather  than  by  a  compre- 
hensive grasp  of  the  whole  situation.  We  are  to 
enter  upon  the  deliberate  attempt  at  social  re- 
construction, but  with  a  kind  of  adolescent  im- 
petuousness,  and  a  fatuous,  almost  fanatical, 
faith  in  the  magic  of  certain  symbols  to  cure 
social  evils.  This  is,  no  doubt,  a  necessary  stage 
in  the  progress  of  social  control,  but  it  is  not 
without  its  dangers.  We  have  gained  the  power 
to  remodel  our  social  order;  have  we  gained  the 
necessary  poise,  the  scientific,  historical,  and 
psychological  knowledge  that  will  make  our 
meddling  safe? 


24  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

There  is,  in  all  the  discussion  of  evils  and  the 
cures  for  them,  a  singular  disregard  of  the  psy- 
chological and  historical  factors  of  the  situation, 
and  a  strange  forgetfulness  of  the  fact  that  how- 
ever important  social  and  political  readjustments 
may  be,  the  world  cannot  be  made  over  as  long 
as  the  human  material  —  the  minds  and  bodies  of 
men  —  remains  the  same.  The  relatively  greater 
importance  of  education,  of  physical  and  mental 
health,  of  racial  integrity,  of  universal  intelli- 
gence and  self-control  is  overlooked. 

Our  efforts  at  reconstruction  will,  therefore, 
probably  be  impulsive  and  childlike.  They  will 
be  directed  to  the  obvious  and  superficial  evils 
of  our  age  rather  than  to  the  deeper  and  more 
serious  ones.  They  will  be  directed  against  in- 
dustrial rather  than  moral  and  racial  evils. 
When  we  think  of  the  graver  aspects  of  the 
social  situation,  when  we  look  beneath  the  ideal- 
ism, the  faith,  the  charity,  the  hopefulness  of 
the  age,  to  its  deeper  troubles  —  such,  for  in- 
stance, as  the  declining  birth-rate,  the  excessive 
and  demoralizing  wealth,  the  lessening  sense  of 
individual  responsibility — we  are  still  oppressed 
with  a  certain  fear  and  dread  for  the  future. 

But  all  these  evils  may  be  averted.  We  have 
still  to  reckon  with  the  creative  power  of  the 


INTRODUCTION  25 

human  mind.  We  have  still  to  reckon  with  the 
possibility  of  the  organization  of  intelligence. 
Despite  the  dangers  of  decadence,  this  is  by  no 
means  a  decadent  age;  it  is  quite  the  opposite. 
It  is  an  age  of  unbounded  energy  and  intellectual 
vigor.  If  we  can  find  some  way  of  redirecting 
this  tide  of  energy  into  channels  which  lead 
directly  to  human  welfare;  if  we  can  discover 
some  means  of  giving  full  expression  to  deep 
human  instincts  and  interests,  and  sublimate 
and  redirect  those  which  are  harmful;  if  we  can 
discover  a  social  order  based  on  human  needs 
and  human  nature  and  not  merely  on  commer- 
cial, industrial,  and  economic  motives,  a  social 
order  in  which  there  shall  be  higher  values  than 
work  and  wages,  comforts  and  luxuries,  and 
frantic  demands  for  more  and  more  rights  and 
liberties,  —  why,  then  progress  rather  than 
decay  may  lie  ahead  of  us  in  this  twentieth  cen- 
tury. The  human  mind  is  indomitable  when  it 
essays  to  navigate  the  air,  to  raise  monster 
armies,  to  communicate  by  wireless,  to  connect 
two  oceans,  to  master  contagious  diseases.  Why 
should  it  falter  at  the  problem  of  human  welfare? 
Philosophers  have  been  defined  as  those  who 
can  think  in  terms  of  the  whole.  This  is  just  what 
we  need  now,  social  philosophers  who  can  think 


26  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

in  terms  of  the  whole  of  society;  not  merely  in 
terms  of  political  ascendancy  and  commercial 
and  industrial  expansion  —  but  in  terms  of  life. 
Projects  for  saving  society  from  the  dangers 
which  now  threaten  it  there  are  many.  In  the 
following  chapters  I  wish  to  refer  to  some  of 
these,  not  in  the  usual  attitude  of  the  advocate 
or  critic,  who  has  in  mind  the  solution  only  of 
certain  economic  problems  of  the  day,  but  rather 
in  the  attitude  of  the  student  of  ultimate  values. 
I  am  particularly  anxious  to  know  whether  the 
reconstructive  movements  of  the  day  have  been 
planned  to  make  men  better,  or  whether  their 
aim  is  the  more  humble  one  of  Francis  Bacon 
to  make  imperfect  men  comfortable;  and  if  the 
latter  should  prove  to  be  their  aim,  I  am  inter- 
ested to  know  whether  they  will  work.  In  other 
words,  I  am  concerned  not  so  much  with  the 
ultimate  outcome  of  a  philosophy  of  peace  and 
plenty,  as  with  its  psychological  foundations. 


CHAPTER  II 

PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  IN  SOCIAL 
RECONSTRUCTION 

NO  one  is  much  interested  in  social  recon- 
struction in  the  abstract,  but  we  are  all 
greatly  interested  in  the  concrete  forms  which  it 
is  now  taking,  such  as  Socialism,  of  which  there 
are  countless  varieties  both  evolutionary  and 
revolutionary,  Syndicalism,  Communism,  Bol- 
shevism, Anarchism,  the  I.W.W.,  the  Non- 
Partisan  League,  Social  Democracy,  Collectiv- 
ism, Cooperation,  Industrial  Democracy,  Votes 
for  Women,  Feminkm,  Prohibition,  the  Single 
Tax,  the  League  of  Nations,  etc. 

To  the  casual  student  of  social  problems  these 
plans  for  reform  seem  like  many  different  and,  to 
some  extent,  rival  movements  —  some  of  them 
Utopian,  some  of  them  full  of  promise  for  social 
welfare,  and  nearly  all  of  them  characterized  by 
deep  sincerity  and  zeal  for  human  improvement. 
To  such  a  student  it  has  not,  perhaps,  occurred 
that  these  movements  are  all  very  much  alike; 
that  a  common  philosophy  of  life  lies  at  the 
basis  of  all  of  them;  that  they  are  all  directed 


28  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

against  certain  well-known  evils  in  our  present  so- 
cial order ;  and  that  the  social  ideals  toward  which 
they  all  are  striving  are  very  much  the  same. 

It  is  no  part  of  my  purpose  in  these  pages 
to  study  any  of  these  movements  individually. 
There  are  tons  of  books  that  do  this.  Neither  is 
it  my  primary  purpose  here  to  inquire  into  the 
philosophy  of  life  which  binds  these  movements 
together,  a  philosophy  quite  clear,  definite,  and 
attractive.  Incidentally  I  shall  refer  to  this  phi- 
losophy of  life,  this  "economic  rationalism,"  as  it 
has  been  called,  this  essentially  Baconian  con- 
ception of  the  world,  this  endless  release  of  hu- 
man desires  with  its  never-ceasing  effort  to  sat- 
isfy them,  and  compare  it  with  totally  other  and 
different  conceptions  of  life  and  society. 

But  for  the  present  it  is  not  the  philosophy  of 
these  movements  that  I  am  interested  in,  but 
their  psychology.  I  am  interested  in  inquiring 
to  what  extent  the  new  social  order  which  is 
typified  in  these  movements  has  a  rational  basis 
in  human  nature;  whether  it  is  a  social  order  in 
which  human  beings,  mentally  constituted  as 
they  are,  will  be  able  to  live  and  work.  I  am  in- 
terested in  studying  social  reconstruction,  not 
from  the  economic  point  of  view,  but  from  the 
psychological  and  psychogenetic  standpoint. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  29 

In  practice  our  current  social-reconstruction 
movements  start  with  the  presence  of  certain 
evils  in  society  which  it  is  desirable  to  cure.  Very 
commonly  it  is  assumed  that  the  presence  of 
these  evils  is  due,  not  to  any  moral,  mental,  or 
physical  defects  in  the  individuals  which  make 
up  society;  nor  to  any  defects  in  our  racial 
stocks;  nor  to  any  defects  in  our  system  of  edu- 
cation, our  schools  or  our  teachers;  nor  to  any 
defects  in  our  public  press  or  our  philosophy  of 
life;  but  wholly,  or  at  least  in  large  part,  to  our 
political  and  economic  institutions.  It  is  pro- 
posed, therefore,  to  change  these  institutions  or 
to  modify  them  in  such  a  way  that  the  aforesaid 
evils  shall  be  absent,  or,  more  simply  still,  to 
make  laws  abolishing  these  evils.1 

The  evils  are  principally  the  following:  the 
unequal  distribution  of  wealth,  the  unequal  dis- 
tribution of  opportunity,  clashes  between  labor 
and  capital,  the  unjust  exclusion  of  women  from 
economic  and  political  privileges,  wars  between 
states  (very  little  is  said  of  civil  war  or  internal 

1  "Nothing  is  more  foolish  than  to  imagine  that  all  the  defects 
in  people  flow  from  defects  in  society  and  will  vanish  if  only  we 
organize  society  on  right  lines.  Some  of  the  traits  developed  in  man 
a  hundred  centuries  ago  make  trouble  now  and  will  have  to  be 
allowed  for  aeons  hence."  (E.  A.  Ross,  Principles  of  Sociology, 
chap,  iv,  on  "Original  Social  Forces.") 


3o  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

disorder),  the  alcohol  evil,  and  the  presence 
everywhere  of  social  and  economic  injustice  in 
our  midst.  Autocracy,  special  privilege,  poverty, 
etc.,  are  corollaries  of  the  above  evils. 

The  programme,  therefore,  of  practically 
every  reconstruction  movement  includes:  The 
abolition  of  war  between  states,  the  more  complete 
democratization  and  socialization  of  governments, 
the  socialization  and  democratization  of  industries, 
the  harmonization  of  capital  and  labor  (or  the  abo- 
lition of  capitalism),  the  greater  equalization  of 
wealth  and  opportunity,  the  complete  emancipa- 
tion of  women  both  political  and  industrial,  the 
suppression  of  alcohol,  and  the  securing  of  social 
and  economic  justice. 

Certainly  if  this  ambitious  plan  could  be 
realized,  we  should  seem  to  have  all  the  condi- 
tions for  the  social' millennium.  It  has  probably 
occurred  to  few  to  doubt  that  if  these  things 
could  be  realized,  our  troubles  would  be  over. 
To  still  fewer,  perhaps,  has  it  occurred  to  ask 
what  would  happen  to  a  people  whose  troubles 
were  over.  A  discussion  of  this  question  would 
involve  us  in  the  problem  of  the  conditions  of 
social  progress  and  the  causes  of  social  stagna- 
tion. Omitting  here  any  reference  to  this  subtile 
point,  we  may  observe  that  the  value  of  this 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  31 

programme  would  depend  upon  the  interpre- 
tation of  the  phrase  "social  justice."  If  social 
justice  is  included  in  our  plans  for  reconstruc- 
tion, and  if  social  justice  is  understood  in  its 
widest  sense,  for  instance  in  the  Platonic  sense,1 
surely  the  programme  would  be  a  perfect  one. 

In  practice,  however,  our  reconstruction 
movements  have  a  much  narrower  aim,  espe- 
cial emphasis  being  laid  upon  the  more  equal 
distribution  of  wealth  and  opportunity,  the  abo- 
lition of  poverty,  the  securing  of  an  adequate 
scale  of  living  for  all  classes,  the  political  and  eco- 
nomic emancipation  of  women,  and  the  aboli- 
tion of  alcohol.  The  new  world  as  we  usually  pic- 
ture it  will  be  perfect  in  proportion  as  it  realizes 
these  ends.  We  have  thus  a  kind  of  Apostles' 
Creed  of  social  reconstruction,  often  held  as 
persistently  and  dogmatically  as  was  ever  re- 

1  Justice  in  the  Platonic  sense  is  a  situation  in  which  every  part 
of  man's  personality  is  developed  to  its  normal  function,  but  at  the 
expense  of  no  other  part  of  his  personality.  Social  justice  is  a  situa- 
tion in  which  every  person  has  and  does  that  which  belongs  to  him 
to  have  and  to  do,  and  does  not  have  or  do  that  which  belongs  to 
another  to  have  or  to  do.  Specifically  this  involves  a  situation  in 
which  each  generation  shall  not  have  or  do  anything  which  be- 
longs to  the  next  following  generations  to  have  or  to  do.  We  should 
certainly  have  here  the  highest  test  of  reconstruction  movements. 
There  might  prove  to  be  a  startling  discrepancy  between  this  no- 
tion of  social  justice  and  the  prevailing  use  of  that  term  to  mean  a 
more  equal  distribution  of  wealth  and  opportunity. 


32  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION  ' 

ligious  creed.  The  faith  in  it  is  naive  to  the 
point  of  childlike  confidence.  One  would  sup- 
pose that  the  doubt  has  simply  never  arisen 
in  our  minds  that  all  of  our  fundamental  social 
problems  will  be  solved  as  soon  as  we  get  wars 
between  nations  stopped,  property  more  equi- 
tably distributed,  capital  and  labor  harmonized, 
opportunity  equalized,  women  enfranchised,  and 
alcohol  abolished. 

And  this  is  not  merely  the  paper  programme 
of  idealists,  nor  a  dreamy,  philosophical  picture 
of  an  ideal  social  state  like  Plato's  "Republic" 
or  Saint  Augustine's  "City  of  God"  or  More's 
"Utopia,"  but  the  actual  working  plans  of  a 
great  number  of  social  reforms  of  intense  vitality 
and  unlimited  enthusiasm.  And  even  this  does 
not  indicate  the  strength  of  this  movement.  It 
is  in  the  air;  it  is  in  the  spirit  of  the  age;  it  is 
in  the  unquestioned  drift  of  events.  So  un- 
bounded is  our  faith  in  the  supreme  value  of  this 
programme  that  to  attain  it  we  believe  that  the 
price  even  of  the  late  awful  war  was  not  too 
great  to  pay.  Even  in  the  untoward  event  of  the 
victory  of  the  Central  Powers,  all  these  social  aims 
would,  as  many  believe,  eventually  have  been 
realized,  because  of  the  powerful  social  forces 
moving  in  this  direction  throughout  the  world. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  33 

Neither  is  this  programme  to  be  criticized  be- 
cause it  is  Utopian.  Too  many  Utopias  are  being 
realized  in  this  marvelous  age  to  borrow  any 
trouble  on  that  account.  Nor  is  it  my  purpose 
here  to  criticize  it  on  the  ground  that  the  ends 
set  forth  are  not  the  supreme  ends  which  society 
should  try  to  realize  or  that  they  are  not  the 
things  in  which  we  are  most  deficient.  It  might, 
to  be  sure,  be  maintained  that  the  things  here 
set  forth  as  social  ideals,  while  they  are  of  great 
value,  are  not  the  things  of  supreme  value  nor 
the  things  which  the  world  at  the  present  time 
most  lacks,  nor  the  things  which  should  become 
of  prime  importance  in  our  social  reconstruc- 
tion. Conceivably,  it  might  be  argued  that  there 
never  was  a  time  in  the  world's  history  when 
there  was  so  little  real  suffering  from  want  of  the 
necessities  of  life,  nor  so  many  enjoyments  and 
comforts  by  every  class  in  the  community,  nor 
so  much  freedom  and  opportunity,  nor  so  little 
intemperance,  nor  so  many  privileges,  oppor- 
tunities, and  rights  for  women.  It  might  per- 
haps be  reasoned  further  that  while  we  are  still 
deficient  in  these  things,  we  are  vastly  more  de- 
ficient in  other,  no  less  vital,  or  still  more  vital 
things,  such  for  instance  as  art,  morals,  man- 
ners, culture,  brotherhood  and  cooperation,  re- 


34  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

ligion,  temperance  in  the  sense  of  moderation, 
thrift,  health,  racial  integrity,  organized  intelli- 
gence, a  rational  system  of  education,  an  inte- 
grated communityjife,  social  stability,  conserva- 
tion of  food,  soils  and  forests,  and  conservation 
of  racial  values.  I  can  well  imagine  that  the 
whole  programme  of  social  reconstruction  at 
the  present  time  might  be  open  to  such  criti- 
cism, were  one  disposed  to  view  it  from  this 
angle;  but  all  this  is  not  the  drift  of  my  present 
criticism  of  our  current  plans  for  social  reform. 
What  I  am  asking  now  is  whether  the  kind  of 
social  order  which  the  above  proposals  offer  is  a 
social  order  that  men  want  at  all.  We  are  trying 
desperately  hard  to  get  it.  Will  it  be  something 
that  we  want  when  we  get  it?  In  other  words, 
has  this  programme  of  social  reform  a  psycho- 
logical basis?  Will  it  meet  our  human  needs? 
Does  it  conform  to  human  nature? 

The  trouble  is  that  all  of  these  social  reorgani- 
zation plans  have  been  worked  out  too  largely 
from  the  political  and  economic  standpoint 
rather  than  from  the  psychological  standpoint. 
Any  workable  plan  for  social  reconstruction 
must  be  based  on  an  accurate  knowledge  of  the 
human  units  which  are  to  constitute  the  new  so- 
ciety. No  social  system  has  any  chance  of  success 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  35 

which  is  not  planned  with  immediate  reference 
to  the  material  of  which  society  is  composed.  A 
bridge-builder  has  to  give  quite  as  much  atten- 
tion to  the  strength  of  material  as  he  has  to  the 
use  and  beauty  of  his  structure.  Human  beings 
are  the  material  of  our  social  order;  but  our  theo- 
retical social-reorganization  schemes  are  often 
planned  simply  to  accomplish  certain  ends  or 
banish  certain  evils,  with  very  little  considera- 
tion of  the  strength  or  the  weakness  of  the  ma- 
terial with  which  they  have  to  build. 

The  gist  of  the  matter  is  simply  this :  We  are 
living  in  an  economic  and  political  age  and  our 
minds  are  obsessed  by  economic  and  political 
ideas.  When  we  turn  to  the  subject  of  social  re- 
construction, we  are  apt  to  take  into  account 
only  economic  and  political  relations,  and,  in 
spite  of  many  warnings  to  the  contrary,  we  are 
apt  to  neglect  the  human  motive,  the  character 
of  the  units  of  which  society  is  composed.  In 
other  words,  we  disregard  the  vital  and  all- 
important  psychological  factor.  Our  theoretical 
social  structures  may,  therefore,  be  just  air- 
castles,  in  which  actual  human  beings  could  not 
live.  Our  social-reconstruction  schemes  may  be 
of  little  value  until  they  have  been  revised  in  the 
light  of  the  teachings  of  psychology,  history,  and 


36  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

anthropology.  This  is  so  obvious  that  it  is  hard 
to  understand  how  the  psychological  and  his- 
torical factors  could  be  so  neglected  in  these 
studies.1 

It  may  be  that  our  current  reconstruction 
plans  are  designed  for  ideal  rather  than  for  prac- 
tical human  beings.  It  rnay  be  that  they  depend 
too  often  upon  the  obsolescent  hedonistic  and 
utilitarian  philosophy  of  Bentham  and  the  hap- 
piness-economy of  Lester  F.  Ward.  It  may  be 
that  they  assume  too  readily  that  mankind  is 
naturally  peace-loving  and  labor-loving,  needing 
only  justice  and  opportunity,  and  that  the  road 
to  happiness  is  through  science,  invention,  and 
the  increase  of  wealth  to  the  end  that  all  men 
may  come  into  their  rightful  inheritance,  this 
rightful  inheritance  being  an  adequate  and  com- 
fortable scale  of  living.  Consequently  it  may  be 
that  they  are  too  ready  to  see  in  increased  pro- 

1  This  applies  to  the  great  current  of  thought  on  the  subject  of 
social  reconstruction  as  it  is  reflected  in  the  movements  of  the  day. 
Notable  exceptions  there  are,  of  course,  many  among  books  of  the 
more  thoughtful  class  such  as  Graham  Wallas's  The  Great  Society, 
and  Human  Nature  in  Politics;  Walter  Lippman's  A  Preface  to 
Politics;  Wesley  C.  Mitchell's  "Human  Behavior  and  Economics," 
Quarterly  Journal  of  Economics,  vol.  29,  pp.  1-47;  Helen  Marot's 
The  Creative  Impulse  in  Industry;  F.  W.  Taussig's  Inventors  and 
Money-Makers;  W.  Trotter's  Instincts  of  the  Her  din  Peace  and  War; 
W.  E.  Hocking's  Human  Nature  and  its'  Remaking;  and  other  books 
mentioned  below. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  37 

duction  of  wealth  and  its  equitable  distribution 
a  solution  of  the  social  problem.  It  is  significant, 
too,  that  this  increased  production  is  always 
quantitatively,  not  qualitatively,  considered. 

Our  social-reform  movements  seem  to  have  a 
somewhat  romantic  character.  They  represent 
restless  endeavors  to  realize  certain  ideas  which 
stand  as  symbols  of  our  age  for  ultimate  desired 
ends  —  such  as  wealth,  liberty,  opportunity, 
equality,  and  peace.  The  agitations  for  these 
things  have  a  dramatic  character  which  per- 
fectly typifies  the  action  of  the  human  mind; 
but  it  remains  an  open  question  whether  that 
form  of  social  organization  by  which  it  is  pro- 
posed to  realize  these  ideas  would  appeal 
strongly  to  human  nature.  Just  as  the  economic 
interpretation  of  history  is  giving  way  to  the 
synthetic  and  psychological  interpretation,  so 
we  are  coming  to  see  that  social  reconstruction 
must  be  conceived  in  its  larger  psychological 
aspects.  If  there  is  to  be  a  new  social  order,  it 
must  be  more  than  an  order  in  which  certain 
evils,  such  as  war  and  poverty  and  inequality, 
are  absent.  It  must  be  an  order  in  which  funda- 
mental human  instincts  and  interests  shall  be 
satisfied.  It  must  be  an  order  in  which  human 
beings  can  live.  The  attention  of  our  social  re- 


38  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

formers  will  have  to  be  centered  less  upon 
wealth  and  more  upon  life. 

The  World  War  and  still  more  the  actual  be- 
havior of  men  since  the  war  have  opened  our 
eyes  to  the  almost  infinite  complexity  of  the  so- 
cial problem,  because  of  the  infinite  complexity 
of  human  motives,  human  passions,  instincts, 
and  interests.  Just  recently  a  mass  of  facts  in  so- 
cial, dynamic,  and  behaviorist  psychology  has 
become  available  and  made  our  current  schemes 
of  reconstruction  very  visionary.  Even  without 
a  knowledge  of  the  writings  of  Carleton  H.  Par- 
ker, Thorndike,  Ross,  McDougall,  Thorstein 
Veblen,  Watson,  Freud,  Cannon,  and  Ordway 
Tead,  the  spectacle  of  human  behavior,  as  it 
was  exhibited  on  the  political  and  diplomatic 
battle-field  of  Europe  after  the  armistice  was 
signed,  would  show  that  any  plans  for  the  recon- 
struction of  society  on  purely  economic  lines 
will  not  work  in  practice.  If  by  eugenic  selection 
or  by  education  a  race  of  men  could  be  produced 
which  would  live  contentedly  in  such  a  society,  it 
is  questionable  whether  it  would  be  worth  while. 

Our  current  reconstruction  plans  proceed  on 
the  general  assumption  that  eight  hours  of  well- 
paid  work  (or  possibly  six,  or  even  four),  eight 
hours  of  leisure  for  recreation  and  self-improve- 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  39 

ment,  and  eight  hours  for  sleep  are  what  men 
want;  and  that  when  these  are  provided  for  all, 
and  when  all  shall  be  given  an  equal  opportu- 
nity, and  when  all  shall  do  their  share  of  the 
work,  and  when  all  shall  have  an  equal  voice  in 
public  affairs,  then  all  will  be  happy,  peaceful, 
docile,  and  contented,  and  social  unrest  will  be  a 
thing  of  the  past.  And  if  the  disquieting  question 
does  still  arise  in  anybody's  mind  whether  man 
will  behave  in  this  docile  fashion  when  work  and 
leisure  and  sleep  and  adequate  wages  are  pro- 
vided, one  class  of  romancers  say  that  he  will 
do  so  provided  all  access  to  alcoholic  liquors  is 
forbidden  him;  another  that  he  will  do  so  pro- 
vided his  wife  and  sisters  have  the  right  to  vote; 
another  that  he  will  do  so  provided  the  reins  of 
government  are  completely  in  his  own  hands; 
another  that  he  will  do  so  provided  there  is 
communal  ownership  of  land  and  capital  — 
that  is,  Democracy,  Votes  for  Women,  Prohi- 
bition, Socialism  are  the  magic  wands  which  are 
to  banish  unrest  from  the  world. 

Every  student  of  race  psychology  knows  how 
life  is  determined  by  a  great  mass  of  inherited 
instincts,  interests,  and  passions.1  Few  question 

1  I  refer  to  biological  inheritance;  but  if  any  one  wishes  to  make 
the  claim  that  the  inheritance  of  these  interests  is  social  or  cultural 


40  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

the  fact  that  the  political  and  economic  inequali- 
ties of  the  present  must  be  corrected,  but  they 
can  only  be  corrected  in  a  social  order  which 
shall  meet  the  minimum  demands  of  the  mass  of 
human  instincts  and  interests  that  determine 
life,  and  a  social  order  which  shall  have  a  degree 
of  permanence  and  stability  that  shall  not  sacri- 
fice the  political  and  economic  justice  of  the  next 
generation  to  that  of  this  one. 

The  following  quotation  from  an  article  by 
Carleton  H.  Parker  will  illustrate  the  close  de- 
pendence which  must  exist  between  social  re- 
construction and  psychological  analysis: 

We  economists  speculate  little  on  human  motives. 
We  are  not  curious  about  the  great  basis  of  fact 
which  dynamic  and  behavioristic  psychology  has 
gathered  to  illustrate  the  instinct  stimulus  to  human 
activity.  Most  of  us  are  not  interested  to  think  of 
what  a  psychologically  full  or  satisfying  life  is.  We 
are  not  curious  to  know  that  a  great  school  of  behav- 
ior analysis  called  the  Freudian  has  been  built  around 
the  human  instincts.  Our  economic  literature  shows 
that  we  are  but  rarely  curious  to  know  whether  in- 
dustrialism is  suited  to  man's  inherited  nature,  or 
what  man  in  turn  will  do  to  our  rules  of  economic 
conduct  in  case  these  rules  are  repressive.  The  mo- 

—  this  has  very  little  bearing  on  the  argument  to  follow.  Such 
social  inheritance  is  very  persistent  and  can  be  changed  slowly  by 
education. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  41 

tives  to  economic  activity  which  have  done  the  major 
service  in  orthodox  economic  texts  and  teachings 
have  been  either  the  vague  middle-class  virtues  of 
thrift,  justice,  and  solvency;  or  the  equally  vague 
moral  sentiments  of  "striving  for  the  welfare  of  oth- 
ers," "desire  for  the  larger  self,"  "desire  to  equip 
one's  self  well";  or,  lastly,  that  labor-saving  deduc- 
tion that  man  is  stimulated  in  all  things  economic  by 
his  desire  to  satisfy  his  wants  with  the  smallest  possi- 
ble effort.  All  this  gentle  parody  in  motive  theorizing 
continued  contemporaneously  with  the  output  of  the 
rich  literature  of  social  and  behavioristic  psychol- 
ogy which  was  almost  entirely  addressed  to  this  very 
problem  of  human  motives  in  modern  economic  soci- 
ety. Noteworthy  exceptions  are  the  remarkable  series 
of  Veblen  books,  the  articles  and  criticisms  by  Mitch- 
ell, Fisher,  and  Patten,  and  the  significant  small  book 
by  Taussig  entitled  "Inventors  and  Money-Makers. " 
It  is  to  this  complementary  field  of  psychology  that 
the  economists  must  turn  for  a  vitalization  of  their 
basic  hypotheses.  There  awaits  them  a  bewildering 
array  of  studies  of  the  motives,  emotions,  and  folk 
ways  of  our  pecuniary  civilization.  Generalizations 
and  experiment  statistics  abound  ready-made  for  any 
structure  of  economic  criticism.  The  human  motives 
are  isolated,  described,  compared.  Business  confi- 
dence, the  release  of  work  energy,  advertising  ap- 
peal, market  vagaries,  the  basis  of  value  computa- 
tions, decay  of  workmanship,  the  labor  unrest,  decline 
in  the  thrift  habit,  are  the  subjects  treated.  .  .  .  The 
stabilizing  of  the  science  of  psychology  and  the 
vogue  among  economists  of  the  scientific  method 
will  not  allow  these  psychological  findings  to  be 
shouldered  out  by  the  careless  a-priori  deductions 
touching  human  nature  which  still  dominate  our 


42  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

orthodox  texts.  The  confusion  and  metaphysical  pro- 
pensities of  our  economic  theory,  our  neglect  of  the 
consequences  of  child  labor,  our  lax  interest  in  na- 
tional vitality  and  health,  the  unusableness  of  our 
theories  of  labor  unrest  and  of  labor  efficiency,  our 
careless  reception  of  problems  of  population,  eugenics, 
sex,  and  birth  control;  our  ignorance  of  the  rela- 
tion of  industry  to  crime,  industry  to  feeble-minded- 
ness,  industry  to  functional  insanity,  industry  to  edu- 
cation; and  our  astounding  indifference  to  the  field  of 
economic  consumption  —  all  this  delinquency  can  be 
traced  back  to  our  refusal  to  see  that  economics  is 
social  economics,  and  that  a  full  knowledge  of  man, 
his  instincts,  his  power  of  habit  acquisition,  his  psy- 
chological demands  were  an  absolute  prerequisite  to 
clear  and  purposeful  thinking  on  our  industrial  civili- 
zation. McDougall,  the  Oxford  social  psychologist, 
said  in  direct  point:  " Political  economy  suffered 
hardly  less  from  the  crude  nature  of  the  psychological 
assumption  from  which  it  professed  to  deduce  the  ex- 
planations of  its  facts,  and  its  prescriptions  for  eco- 
nomic legislation.  It  would  be  a  libel  not  altogether 
devoid  of  truth  to  say  that  the  classical  political 
economy  was  a  tissue  of  false  conclusions  drawn  from 
false  psychological  assumptions."  l 

So  far  as  the  science  of  economics  is  con- 
cerned, Professor  Parker  was  no  doubt  speaking 
of  a  generation  already  past.  Our  present-day 
economists  are  fully  alive  to  the  vital  connection 
between  their  science  and  the  science  of  human 

1  Carleton  H.  Parker,  "Motives  in  Economic  Life,"  Proceed- 
ings, American  Economic  Association,  30th  Meeting,  December, 
1917,  pp.  214,  215. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  43 

conduct,  but  it  is  quite  otherwise  as  regards 
the  economic  theories  which  are  presupposed  in 
the  popular  reconstruction  plans  of  the  time.  It 
is  a  very  distinct  philosophy  of  life  upon  which 
they  rest;  but  it  is  a  purely  speculative,  a-priori 
philosophy,  which,  although  highly  optimistic 
and  captivating,  lacks  basis  in  concrete  reality. 

It  sounds  very  well  to  reason,  somewhat  after 
the  manner  of  Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward,  as  follows: 
The  end  to  be  sought  in  human  society  is  the 
maximization  of  pleasure  and  the  minimization 
of  pain.  The  pain-economy  under  which  the 
lower  animals  live  is  no  longer  necessary  for  man, 
who,  under  the  guidance  of  science  and  the  me- 
chanic arts  and  by  means  of  the  economic  sur- 
plus, may  now  enter  upon  a  pleasure-economy. 
Every  one,  including  the  hitherto  exploited 
classes,  exploited  not  because  of  lack  of  intelli- 
gent capacity,  but  for  lack  of  opportunity,  is  en- 
titled to  and  can  attain  to  an  adequate  and  com- 
fortable scale  of  living,  providing  not  only  the 
necessities  of  life,  but  a  reasonable  number  of 
comforts  and  luxuries.  There  is  not,  however,  at 
the  present  time,  wealth  enough  in  the  world, 
even  if  it  were  equally  distributed,  to  provide 
such  a  scale  of  living  for  all.  It  is  therefore  neces- 
sary to  increase  still  further  the  wealth  of  the 


44  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

world.  To  this  end  let  all  extant  knowledge  be 
freely  imparted  to  all  people.  This  will  result  in  a 
vastly  increased  number  of  effective  men  of  spe- 
cial ability,  for  ability  depends  upon  opportu- 
nity more  than  upon  birth.  This  again  will  bring 
about  an  advance  in  science  and  invention, 
which  will  effect  a  great  increase  in  wealth  and 
opportunity,  and  these  being  equally  distributed 
will  promote  universal  comfort  and  happiness. 
In  this  society  of  the  future,  productive  labor 
will  be  universal,  for  when  the  stigma  be  re- 
moved from  labor,  labor  itself  will  bring  the 
greatest  happiness  to  mankind,  since  pleasure  is 
found  in  the  exercise  of  normal  function.1 

This  sounds  very  familiar  to  us.  To  many,  in- 
deed, it  seems,  no  doubt,  to  be  the  very  gospel 
which  it  was  the  mission  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury to  proclaim  and  of  the  twentieth  century  to 
realize  in  our  new  social  order.  If  this  gospel  fail, 
hope  is  lost.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact  almost  every 
article  in  this  creed  is  open  to  question.  It  was 
the  World  War  itself  which  first  shook  our  faith 
in  this  modern  gospel  of  a  pleasure-economy.  It 
has  been  the  behavior  of  the  world  since  the 
war  that  has  brought  further  discredit  upon  it. 

x  Compare  Lester  F.  Ward,  Applied  Sociology,  part  i,  chap. 
in  ff. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  45 

Neither  biology  nor  psychology  has  been  able  to 
establish  a  foundation  for  the  hedonistic  philoso- 
phy upon  which  this  creed  of  the  pleasure-econo- 
mists could  stand.  We  have  discovered  that 
there  are  higher  values  than  the  maximization 
of  pleasure  and  the  minimization  of  pain.  We 
have  discovered  that  there  are  higher  concep- 
tions of  education  than  the  diffusion  of  knowl- 
edge. We  have  discovered  that  in  social  re- 
construction what  we  have  to  deal  with  is  not 
certain  abstract  concepts  such  as  pleasure,  hap- 
piness, leisure,  wealth,  labor,  and  opportunity, 
but  an  immense  number  of  intensely  human 
men  and  women  actuated  by  powerful  instincts 
and  passions.  We  have  discovered  that  what 
men  really  want  is  life  and  self-realization,  and 
that  self-realization  involves  a  network  of  vital 
social  relations  and  the  functioning  of  a  great 
mass  of  powerful  human  instincts  and  interests. 
When  the  older  writers  talked  about  the  es- 
cape of  mankind  from  the  old  pain-economy  to 
a  pleasure-economy,  it  was  probable  that  what 
they  had  in  mind  was  the  vindication  of  man  in 
his  struggle  for  self-realization  against  the  old 
theological  notion  of  ascetic  repression  of  natu- 
ral impulses.  Thus  far  they  represented  a  great 
step    forward.    But    every    statement    of    this 


46  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

emancipation  in  terms  of  a  pain  and  pleasure 
economy  lacked  a  sound  psychological  and  socio- 
logical foundation.  It  should  never  be  forgot- 
ten that  the  value  of  life  is  not  lessened  by 
the  presence  of  tragic  elements.  In  the  following 
pages  I  shall  make  some  attempt  to  discover  in 
what  self-realization  actually  consists,  whether 
in  work  or  play,  whether  in  pleasure  or  the  ful- 
fillment of  normal  function;  and  if  in  the  latter, 
whether  normal  function  consists  in  work,  as  Mr. 
Ward  thought,  or  in  the  life  of  instinctive  ac- 
tivities. Here  I  am  only  trying  to  point  out  the 
failure  of  our  current  reconstruction  plans  to 
take  account  of  psychological  motives.  I  am  not 
here  attempting  to  write  constructively  on  so- 
cial reorganization,  but  only  to  show  that  who- 
ever will  do  so  must  from  now  on  take  careful 
and  detailed  account  of  human  instincts,  im- 
pulses, and  interests. 

The  trouble  is  that  the  terms  "social  welfare" 
and  "the  public  good"  are  not  usually  carefully 
defined.  Some  general  phrase,  such  as  "the  full, 
free,  and  abundant  life,"  or  "the  satisfaction  of 
our  organic  cravings,"  usually  suffices.  But  it  is 
just  this  need  of  finding  out  what  life  really  is 
that  makes  a  psychological- viewpoint  necessary. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  47 

Here,  I  think,  we  shall  find  it  hard  to  improve 
upon  Aristotle's  conception  of  the  highest  good 
as  the  activity  of  our  powers.  Aristotle,  from 
his  Greek  intellectualistic  viewpoint,  considered 
thought  as  the  highest  and  best  form  of  activity. 
Surely  he  was  nearly  right  here,  but  among  our 
energetic  northern  races  and  with  our  emphasis 
upon  Will  and  Vital  Impulse,  we  interpret  it 
to  mean  something  like  initiative,  enterprise, 
achievement,  adventure,  organization,  inven- 
tion, scientific  discovery.  Our  bent  is  in  these 
directions,  so  that  our  problem  becomes  one  of 
finding  a  social  order  in  which  the  greatest  num- 
ber of  individuals  in  the  present  and  in  future 
generations  may  have  a  fair  field  for  their  ac- 
tivities —  a  fair  field  for  thought,  action,  con- 
trol, and  achievement.  But  such  a  fair  field  for 
activity  for  all  members  of  the  group,  and  for 
successive  generations,  involves  an  integrated 
and  stable  social  life,  and  that  involves  a  high 
degree  of  self-control  and  social  discipline.  The 
problem  of  social  reconstruction,  if  such  a  thing 
be  attempted,  becomes,  therefore,  an  extremely 
complicated  one,  requiring  a  profound  insight 
into  the  instincts  and  motives  of  the  human  units 
of  which  society  is  composed,  and  at  the  same 
time  an  accurate  historical  knowledge  of  social 


48  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

institutions  and  the  conditions  upon  which  social 
integration  depends. 

In  our  popular  social-reconstruction  move- 
ments we  pay  too  little  attention  to  any  of  these 
fundamental  things.  We  are  concerned,  rather, 
in  a  vaguely  sympathetic  way,  in  releasing  hu- 
man desires  and  then  in  devising  means  of  satis- 
fying them.  We  are  supremely  interested  in  pro- 
viding for  everybody  an  adequate  scale  of  living, 
and  then  in  intensifying  our  already  feverish 
industrial  system  to  the  end  of  satisfying  these 
desires.  We  have  little  interest  in  studying  into 
the  actual  instinctive  needs  of  men,  into  what 
is  required  to  enable  them  to  fulfill  their  normal 
function,  while  our  attitude  toward  discipline  is 
almost  wholly  negative,  forgetting  the  condi- 
tions which  make  an  integrated  and  abiding  so- 
cial life  possible,  but  reveling  rather  in  a  kind  of 
sentimental  adoration  of  liberty  and  equality. 
We  seem  to  forget  that  there  are  coming  genera- 
tions whose  desires  are  to  be  satisfied  and  for 
whom  a  field  for  achievement  is  to  be  left. 

We  are  engaged  in  the  relatively  superficial 
task  of  devising  some  political  or  social  machin- 
ery which  shall  distribute  more  evenly  certain 
material  goods,  or  in  finding  some  new  form 
of  social  or  industrial  organization  which  has 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  49 

scarcely  any  further  aim  than  the  increased  pro- 
duction of  such  goods  and  their  just  distribu- 
tion. We  see  that  people  desire  certain  things 
and,  moved  by  an  unbounded  sympathy,  we  pro- 
pose some  plan  of  social  reconstruction  which 
shall  satisfy  these  desires.1  In  this  we  carry  over 
the  theory  of  economic  value  into  the  field  of  so- 
cial and  ethical  values.  It  is  not,  indeed,  mere 
wealth  that  we  prize  so  highly  —  although  in 
practice  this  is  the  dominant  idea  —  but  wealth 
and  opportunity.  By  opportunity,  however,  we 
mean  nothing  more  than  opportunity  for  indi- 
vidual material  and  spiritual  expansion,  oppor- 
tunity for  leisure,  for  culture,  for  recreation,  for 
entertainment,  for  art. 

We  are  wholly  engrossed,  therefore,  in  finding 
some  kind  of  machinery  which  shall  insure  to 
everybody  (usually  everybody  in  this  generation) 
these  satisfactions.  Our  mouths  are  full  of  phrases 
which  are  names  for  the  several  parts  of  this  so- 

1  For  an  extreme  statement  of  this  view  that  social  organization 
should  tend  toward  the  maximum  production  of  all  that  may  be 
useful  or  agreeable  to  man  with  the  minimum  of  effort,  see  the 
pamphlet  by  G.  Barnich  entitled  Principes  de  Politique  Positive 
apres  Solvay.  It  is  beyond  understanding  how  psychological  and 
evolutionary  facts  are  left  out  of  consideration  in  works  of  this 
kind.  On  the  fundamental  place  of  effort  in  the  mental  life  of  man, 
compare  the  article  by  John  J.  B.  Morgan,  entitled  "An  Analysis 
of  Effort,"  The  Psychological  Review,  vol.  27,  no.  2,  March,  1920. 


50  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

cial  and  industrial  machinery,  such  as  industrial 
democracy,  collective  bargaining,  co6peration, 
profit-sharing,  social  insurance,  a  minimum 
wage,  an  eight-hour  day,  better  housing,  indus- 
trial education,  terminal  markets,  trades  unions, 
shop  councils,  and  so  on  through  the  familiar 
list. 

All  these  proposals  are  excellent;  that  is,  they 
are  excellent  within  the  narrow  circle  of  our  in- 
dustrialized and  commercialized  thinking.  But 
when  we  begin  to  talk  about  social  reconstruc- 
tion these  categories  are  no  longer  sufficient.  I 
anticipate  that  this  method  of  social  reconstruc- 
tion will,  in  the  near  future,  give  place  to  a 
more  psychological,  historical,  and  psychogenetic 
method.  We  shall  turn  our  thought  to  evolution 
and  human  nature,  and  we  shall  realize  that  re- 
construction, if  it  is  to  result  in  a  stable  social 
structure  that  shall  insure  happiness,  not  to  cer- 
tain classes  for  a  few  years,  but  to  all  of  us  and  to 
our  children  and  to  their  children,  will  require 
long  and  patient  scientific  study  of  history,  psy- 
chology, and  human  institutions. 

The  science  of  psychology  has  in  recent  years 
been  most  helpfully  enriched  by  the  study  of  the 
original  elements  in  the  nature  of  man.  The  at- 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  51 

tention  of  psychologists  is  no  longer  centered  on 
pain  and  pleasure,  on  sensation,  or  on  thought, 
but  rather  on  instinct,  on  the  conative  impulse, 
on  the  wish  pulse,  the  pulse  of  energy.1  It  is  the 
vital  impulse,  the  conative  tendencies,  the  will 
to  live,  the  will  to  power  —  it  is  life  itself  which 
now  holds  the  center  of  interest  in  the  s  udy 
of  mental  being.  These  are  the  ultimate  facts  of 
mental  life  not  to  be  referred  to  any  simpler 
elements.2 

1  Compare  S.  N.  Patten,  "  The  Divided  Self,"  Monist,  April, 
1919,  p.  223. 

2  "The  instinctive  impulses  determine  the  ends  of  all  activities 
and  supply  the  driving  power  by  which  all  mental  activities  are 
sustained;  and  all  the  complex  intellectual  apparatus  of  the  most 
highly  developed  mind  is  but  a  means  toward  these  ends,  is  but  the 
instrument  by  which  these  impulses  seek  their  satisfactions,  while 
pleasure  and  pain  do  but  serve  to  guide  them  in  their  choice  of  the 
means. 

" .  .  .  These  impulses  are  the  mental  forces  that  maintain  and 
shape  all  the  life  of  individuals  and  societies,  and  in  them  we  are 
confronted  with  the  central  mystery  of  life  and  mind  and  will. 

"...  We  may  perhaps  describe  all  living  things  as  expressions  or 
embodiments  of  what  we  may  vaguely  name,  with  Schopenhauer, 
will,  or,  with  Bergson,  the  vital  impulsion  (Velan  vital),  or,  more 
simply,  life;  and  each  specifically  directed  conative  tendency  we 
may  regard  as  a  differentiation  of  this  fundamental  will-to-live, 
conditioned  by  a  conative  disposition.  At  the  standpoint  of  em- 
pirical science,  we  must  accept  these  conative  dispositions  as  ul- 
timate facts,  not  capable  of  being  analyzed  or  of  being  explained 
by  being  shown  to  be  instances  of  any  wider,  more  fundamental 
notion."    (William  McDougall,  An  Introduction  to  Social  Psychol- 

°gy,  pp-  44  anJ  361.) 


52  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

The  soul  of  man  is  found  in  the  capacity  to  do, 
in  "the  form  of  a  natural  body  endowed  with  the 
capacity  for  life,"  in  the  Aristotelian  phrase.1 
Longing,  striving,  aspiration  are  the  deep  and 
significant  things  in  human  nature.2  The  essen- 
tial and  basal  fact  in  human  life  and  human 
society  is  the  will  to  live,  the  will  to  power,  the 
inner  disposition.  Man  is  a  striving  animal.  He 
always  strives  for  something;  but  social  psychol- 
ogy must  fix  its  attention  less  upon  the  things 
striven  for  and  more  upon  the  striving  itself. 

Happiness  is  not  found  in  the  satisfaction  of 
our  desires,  but  in  the  activity  of  our  powers; 
not  in  the  means  of  gratifying  our  tastes,  but  in 
the  gratification  of  them;  not  in  the  experienc- 
ing of  pleasure,  but  in  the  harmonious  exercise 
of  human  faculties.  Hence  it  follows  that  an 
ideal  social  order  is  not  one  which  will  best  fur- 
nish its  people  with  the  means  of  satisfying  their 
desires,  but  one  that  will  best  provide  a  field  for 
their  activities. 

Particularly  in  our  modern  times  has  it  come 
to  be  true  that  mental  life  takes  more  and  more 
the  form  of  striving.  It  seems  as  if  a  new  pulse  of 
cosmic  energy  has  flowed  into  the  souls  of  men. 

1  Compare  E.  B.  Holt,  The  Freudian  Wish,  chap.  I. 

2  Compare  C.  G.  Jung,  The  Theory  of  Psychoanalysis,  p.  40  ff. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  53 

The  modern  man  is  tremendously  virile  and 
forceful.  Outwardly  there  are  no  signs  of  human 
decadence.1 

Professor  George  Plimpton  Adams  in  his  re- 
cent book, "  Idealism  and  the  Modern  Age," 2  has 
brought  into  remarkably  clear  relief  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  times  in  which  we  live.  The 
ancients,  he  says,  looked  without  toward  an  ob- 
jective ideal  order  which  they  wished  to  appro- 

1  This  by  no  means  indicates  a  situation  of  biological  stability 
or  biological  fitness  on  the  part  of  our  western  races.  It  means  only 
that  the  human  mechanism  now  displays  an  immense  amount  of 
kinetic  energy.  It  is  a  masculine  age  in  which  we  live,  an  expansive, 
centrifugal  age,  an  age  of  great  energy  and  endeavor.  Even  our 
churches  have  become  no  longer  bodies  of  worship  and  prayer,  but 
societies  of  Christian  endeavor.  It  is  not  an  age  of  calm  and  rest 
and  conservation  of  forces. 

Statistics  show  that  the  annual  per  capita  consumption  of  sugar 
in  the  United  States  has  increased  from  thirty-five  pounds  in  1866 
to  ninety-two  pounds  in  1919,  the  total  consumption  being  4,500,- 
000  tons.  Sugar  is  a  food  that  is  quickly  converted  into  available 
energy.  One  cannot  but  wonder  whether  this  craving  for  sugar  does 
not  indicate  that  we  are  living  or  beginning  to  live  a  kind  of  hand- 
to-mouth  existence,  expending  an  abnormal  amount  of  energy  and 
demanding  quick  and  expensive  means  of  supply.  The  remarkable 
increase  in  the  consumption  of  coffee,  tea,  and  tobacco,  and  the 
craving  for  alcohol  strengthen  this  suggestion.  The  abandon  with 
which  our  western  children  play,  as  compared  with  children  of  the 
Orient,  the  impetuousness  of  our  devotion  to  baseball,  football,  and 
other  athletics,  the  extravagance  of  our  dancing  —  all  this  suggests 
that  these  phenomena  may  not  after  all  be  an  index  of  life  and 
vitality,  but  of  mere  nervousness  —  may  indeed  indicate  a  lack  of 
real  life  and  real  vitality. 

8  Page  79  ff. 


54  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

priate  or  possess.  They  did  not  seek  to  make 
their  ideal  world.  They  sought  to  participate  in 
objective,  significant  structures  which  were  given 
to  men  to  know,  to  contemplate,  and  to  worship. 
But  now  in  our  modern  democratic  world  all 
this  is  changed.  The  modern  man  wishes  to  cre- 
ate his  own  world.  Activity,  control,  achieve- 
ment have  superseded  contemplation  and  wor- 
ship. The  significance  of  things  now  lies  not  in 
any  absolute  value  which  they  have,  but  in  the 
response  and  success  which  they  have  offered  to 
man's  endeavors.  "The  life  and  thought  of  men 
grow,  indeed,  out  of  attitudes  and  experiences  in 
which  not  contemplation  but  activity,  not  in- 
telligence but  will  and  feeling,  not  aesthetic  and 
philosophic  theoria  but  ethical  striving  and 
emotional  aspiration  express  man's  dominant 
interests."  l 

1  Compare  the  following  quotation  from  Wesley  C.  Mitchell: 
"'There  can  be  no  question,'  wrote  a  distinguished  psychologist 
in  1909,  'that  the  lack  of  practical  recognition  of  psychology  by 
the  workers  in  the  social  sciences  has  been  in  the  main  due  to  its 
deficiencies.  .  .  .  The  department  of  psychology  that  is  of  primary 
importance  for  the  social  sciences  is  that  which  deals  with  the 
springs  of  human  action,  the  impulses  and  motives  that  sustain 
mental  and  bodily  activity  and  regulate  conduct;  and  this,  of  all 
the  departments  of  psychology,  is  the  one  that  has  remained  in  the 
most  backward  state,  in  which  the  greatest  obscurity,  vagueness, 
and  confusion  still  reign.' 

"Happily,  the  preceding  reviews  justify  the  belief  that  this  situ- 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  55 

The  overthrow  of  psychological  hedonism 
gives  an  entirely  new  cast  to  our  plans  for  social 
reconstruction.  Practically  all  of  these  plans 
rest  upon  the  tacit  assumption  that  that  society 
will  be  best  which  shall  best  furnish  a  means  of 
satisfying  human  desires,  and  these  desires  are 
economically  interpreted  as  desires  for  wealth, 
for  material  benefits,  for  an  adequate  scale  of 
living,  Hence  the  necessity  for  increasing  the 
production  of  wealth;  hence  the  need  of  a  more 
equal  distribution  of  material  goods.  With  the 
passing  of  the  old  hedonistic  philosophy  and  the 


ation  is  changing  for  the  better.  For  Parmelee  and  Thorndike, 
Wallas,  Vebien,  and  Lippmann,  even  in  a  measure  Sombart  and 
Walling,  are  endeavoring  to  explain  how  men  act.  Studies  of  trop- 
isms,  reflexes,  instincts,  and  intelligence;  of  the  relations  between 
an  individual's  original  and  acquired  capacities;  of  the  cultural 
roles  played  by  racial  endowments  and  social  institutions  are 
vastly  more  significant  for  economics  than  classifications  of  con- 
scious states,  investigations  of  the  special  senses,  and  disquisitions 
on  the  relations  between  soul  and  body. 

"It  was  because  hedonism  offered  a  theory  of  how  men  act  that 
it  exercised  so  potent  an  influence  upon  economics.  It  is  because 
they  are  developing  a  sounder  type  of  functional  psychology  that 
we  may  hope  both  to  profit  by  and  to  share  in  the  work  of  contem- 
porary psychologists.  But  in  embracing  this  opportunity  econom- 
ics will  assume  a  new  character.  It  will  cease  to  be  a  system  of 
pecuniary  logic,  a  mechanical  study  of  static  equilibria  under  non- 
existent conditions,  and  become  a  science  of  human  behavior." 
(Wesley  C.  Mitchell,  "Human  Behavior  and  Economics,"  Quar- 
terly Journal  of  Economics,  vol.  29,  pp.  46,  47.  Quotation  is  from 
McDougall,  An  Introduction  to  Social  Psychology,  pp.  2,  3.) 


56  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

coming  of  the  new  dynamic  conception  of  life 
this  notion  of  society  and  of  social  welfare  must 
be  changed.1 

Every  vigorous  man  needs  some  kind  of  contest, 
some  sense  of  resistance  overcome,  in  order  to  feel 
that  he  is  exercising  his  faculties.  Under  the  influence 
of  economics,  a  theory  has  grown  up  that  what  men 
desire  is  wealth;  this  theory  has  tended  to  verify 
itself,  because  people's  actions  are  more  often  de- 
termined by  what  they  think  they  desire  than  by 
what  they  really  desire.  The  less  active  members  of  a 
community  often  do  in  fact  desire  wealth,  since  it  en- 
ables them  to  gratify  a  taste  for  passive  enjoyment, 
and  to  secure  respect  without  exertion.  But  the  ener- 
getic men  who  make  great  fortunes  seldom  desire  the 
actual  money:  they  desire  the  sense  of  power  through 
a  contest,  and  the  joy  of  successful  activity.2 

Society  must  be  so  organized  as  to  provide 
directly  for  the  exercise  of  man's  inherent  and 
instinctive  faculties.  That  there  must  be  an  ade- 
quate scale  of  living  and  a  more  equitable  dis- 
tribution of  goods  is  of  course  taken  for  granted; 
but  these  are  too  often  considered  as  ends  in 
themselves,  as  if  society  should  be  reorganized 

1  The  problem  of  the  motivation  of  human  conduct  appears  not 
to  have  been  well  thought  through  either  by  our  economists  or  by 
our  social  reformers.  B.  M.  Anderson's  book  on  Social  Values,  es- 
pecially chapter  x,  should  be  read  by  all ;  also  Professor  W.  G. 
Everett's  book  on  Moral  Values. 

2  Bertrand  Russell,  Why  Men  Fight,  p.  ioo. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  57 

with  this  particular  end  in  view.  Indeed  it  ap- 
pears that  our  social-reform  movements  are 
often  planned  solely  with  reference  to  this  end: 
namely,  to  provide  peace  and  plenty  and  an 
adequate  scale  of  material  comforts.  What  men 
desire,  it  is  reasoned,  is  peace  and  plenty  and 
leisure  and  work  and  opportunity. 

It  may  be  replied  that  many  of  the  social-re- 
construction movements  of  our  time,  while  they 
do  lay  great  stress  upon  peace  and  plenty  and 
work  and  adequate  comforts,  expressly  stipulate 
that  there  shall  be  opportunity  for  self-improve- 
ment and  spiritual  development,  thus  appar- 
ently emphasizing  the  very  kind  of  activity 
which  modern  psychology  declares  for.  But  the 
trouble  is  that  in  these  platforms  opportunity  is 
a  mere  phrase.  It  seems  to  be  assumed  that,  given 
peace  and  plenty  and  leisure,  something  vaguely 
called  spiritual  development  will  follow.  Biolo- 
gists will  tell  us  that  what  will  probably  follow 
will  be  degeneration,  or,  at  the  best,  social  stag- 
nation.1 

1  It  is  interesting  to  read  McDougall's  account  of  the  peaceful 
and  warlike  tribes  of  Borneo  whom  he  has  personally  studied.  "  It 
might  be  supposed,"  he  says,  "  that  the  peaceful  coastwise  people 
would  be  found  to  be  superior  in  moral  qualities  to  their  more  war- 
like neighbors;  but  the  contrary  is  the  case.  In  almost  all  respects 
the  advantage  lies  with  the  warlike  tribes.  Their  houses  are  better 


58  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

This  does  not  mean  that  we  are  to  abate  our 
efforts  to  establish  a  society  free  from  that  form 
of  social  suicide  such  as  the  modern  war  has  be- 
come. It  means  only  that  the  scientific  reorgani- 
zation of  society  is  an  affair  of  infinitely  greater 
difficulty  than  we  at  present  realize.  It  will  not 
do  to  say  that  the  instinct  of  pugnacity  is  evil 
and  that  we  will  organize  our  society  so  that  this 
evil  will  be  absent,  by  means,  for  instance,  of  ar- 
bitration treaties,  peace  societies,  and  a  League 
of  Nations.1  If  by  these  means  we  could  perhaps 
abolish  war  between  states  or  lessen  its  fre- 
quency, there  are  other  forms  of  war  known  to 
history.  Indeed,  history  records  the  fact  that 

built,  larger,  and  cleaner;  their  domestic  morality  is  superior;  they 
are  physically  stronger,  are  braver,  and  physically  and  mentally 
more  active,  and  in  general  are  more  trustworthy.  But,  above  all, 
their  social  organization  is  firmer  and  more  efficient,  because  their 
respect  for  and  obedience  to  their  chiefs,  and  their  loyalty  to  their 
community,  are  much  greater;  each  man  identifies  himself  with  the 
whole  community  and  accepts  and  loyally  performs  the  social 
duties  laid  upon  him.  And  the  moderately  warlike  tribes  occupy- 
ing the  intermediate  regions  stand  midway  between  them  and  the 
people  of  the  coast  as  regards  these  moral  qualities."  (McDougall, 
An  Introduction  to  Social  Psychology,  p.  289.) 

1  References  to  the  League  of  Nations  in  several  places  in  this 
book  should  not  be  interpreted  to  indicate  any  hostility  to  the 
plan.  I  am  heartily  ashamed  of  the  selfish  and  unenviable  position 
taken  by  our  Senate  on  this  matter.  As  everybody  that  I  have 
talked  to  on  the  subject  seems  to  hold  the  same  views,  one  cannot 
help  wondering  how  much  public  opinion  our  boisterous  Senators 
who  opposed  the  League  had  behind  them. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  59 

civil  wars  have  been  quite  as  great  a  menace  to 
human  progress  as  wars  between  nations,  and 
even  apart  from  civil  war,  internal  dissensions 
and  disorders  as  a  result  of  innate  pugnacity  are 
always  threatening  social  stability.  McDougall 
calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  when  a  pugna- 
cious people  is  brought  under  a  strict  system 
of  legality,  litigiousness  greatly  increases.1  We 
have  lately  learned  something  of  the  impotence 
of  peace  societies  and  arbitration  treaties  in  the 
face  of  raging  human  passions,  all  of  which  goes 
to  show  not  the  uselessness  of  such  efforts  nor 
the  hopelessness  of  a  League  of  Nations,  but  the 
absolute  need  of  supplementing  these  endeavors 
by  the  application  of  psychological  principles  to 
social  reconstruction.  The  instinct  of  pugnacity 
cannot  be  suppressed.  It  must  be  sublimated,  as 
Professor  James  well  knew  when  he  proposed  a 
substitute  for  war.  Nor  would  it  do  to  say  that  if 
men  are  well  fed  they  will  not  fight,  for  history 
refutes  this  at  every  turn.  That  a  virile,  well-fed 
nation  will  wage  a  war  of  offense  recent  history 
shows. 

In  fact,  we  have  right  before  our  eyes  at  the 
present  time  a  great  international  movement 
illustrating  the  persistence  of  the  deep,  instinc- 

1  McDougall,  An  Introduction  to  Social  Psychology,  p.  279. 


60  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

tive  love  of  some  kind  of  physical  conflict;  for  in 
spite  of  the  democratic  theory  of  government 
which  is  supposed  to  be  extended  to  wider  and 
wider  circles  of  the  earth,  the  use  of  violence  by 
one  class  against  another  is  openly  advocated  by 
certain  of  our  social  reformers. 


CHAPTER  III 

PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  IN  SOCIAL 
RECONSTRUCTION  {continued) 

IT  is  not  my  purpose  here  to  take  up  the  spe- 
cific human  instincts  and  impulses  and  at- 
tempt to  catalogue  them,  nor  to  show  in  detail 
how  these  specific  instincts  and  impulses  fail  to 
be  provided  for  in  our  current  reconstruction 
plans.  The  first  has  been  done  by  many  recent 
writers,1  and  the  second  is  beyond  the  scope  of 
the  present  work.  Neither  is  it  worth  while  to 
wrangle  over  the  nomenclature.2  Those  who  dis- 
trust the  word  "instinct,"  or  bewail  its  lack  of 
exact  connotation,  or  those  who  deny  the  exist- 
ence of  any  instincts  at  all,  may,  so  far  as  the 

1  Compare  Edward  L.  Thorndike,  "The  Original  Nature  of 
Man,"  Educational  Psychology,  vol.  i;  William  James,  Principles  of 
Psychology,  vol.  n,  chap,  xxiv;  William  McDougall,  An  Introduc- 
tion to  Social  Psychology,  chaps,  ill,  iv,  v;  Carleton  H.  Parker, 
"Motives  in  Economic  Life,"  Proceedings,  American  Economic 
Association,  30th  Meeting,  December,  1917,  pp.  212-31;  Ordway 
Tead,  Instincts  in  Industry. 

2  Compare  Graham  Wallas,  The  Great  Society,  chaps.  11,  in; 
F.  W.  Taussig,  Inventors  and  Money-Makers,  pp.  5,  6;  Thorstein 
Veblen,  The  Instinct  of  Workmanship,  Introduction;  Symposium 
on  Instinct,  British  Journal  of  Psychology,  November,  1919; 
W.  Trotter,  Instincts  of  the  Herd  in  Peace  and  War,  p.  94  Iff.; 
W.  E.  Hocking,  Human  Nature  and  Its  Remaking,  part  11. 


62  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

present  discussion  is  concerned,  substitute  the 
name  most  acceptable  to  them,  such,  for  in- 
stance, as  propensities,  dispositions,  rooted  dis- 
positions, predispositions,  proclivities,  persistent 
interests,  Urveranlagungen,  automatic  impulses, 
original  nature  of  man,  persistent  reflexes,  or  ex- 
ceedingly stubborn  forms  of  behavior.  For  brev-» 
ity  I  shall  use  the  word  instinct.1 

It  will  be  sufficient  for  my  purpose  to  take  any 
list  of  human  instincts  or  predispositions,  such  as 
that  given  by  Carleton  H.  Parker,2  or  a  part  of 
them,  and  we  shall  at  once  see  to  what  extent 
these  primal  tendencies  of  human  nature  are 
neglected  or  ignored  in  popular  social-recon- 
struction movements.  Dominant  among  our  in- 
stinctive proclivities  not  thus  provided  for  are 

1  Professor  John  B.  Watson,  in  his  recent  book  entitled  Psy- 
chology from  the  Standpoint  of  a  Behaviorist,  limits  the  number  of 
human  instincts  rather  narrowly.  Nevertheless  the  following  quo- 
tation from  his  book  illustrates  very  well  the  persistence  and  the 
dominance  of  certain  human  dispositions,  and  this  is  all  that  I 
need  to  emphasize,  so  far  as  my  present  argument  is  concerned: 
"Many  individuals' will  not  give  twenty-five  cents  for  a  charitable 
purpose,  but  at  any  charity  gathering  they  will  eagerly  take  one  of 
a  dozen  twenty-five-cent  chances  on  almost  any  object  the  total 
value  of  which  need  not  be  greater  than  the  cost  of  a  single  chance. 
So  uniform  is  the  response  to  lottery  schemes  that  they  have  often- 
times become  national  mediums  for  raising  government  funds." 
(Pages  3  and  4.  The  italics  are  mine.) 

2  In  the  work  cited.  Compare  also  the  lists  given  by  McDougall, 
James,  and  Ordway  Tead. 


PYSCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  63 

the  instinct  of  constructive  workmanship,  curios- 
ity and  manipulation;  the  instinct  of  ownership, 
individual  possession,  acquisition,  and  collecting; 
the  instinct  of  pugnacity;  the  instinct  of  gre- 
gariousness;  the  instinct  of  emulation  and  ri- 
valry; the  instinct  of  loyalty  and  devotion;  the 
instinct  of  parental  bent  and  motherly  behavior; 
the  instinct  of  thought,  invention,  and  organiza- 
tion; the  housing  or  settling  instinct;  the  homing 
and  migratory  instinct;  the  hunting  instinct, 
love  of  adventure  and  change;  the  instinct  of 
leadership  and  mastery,  and  the  love  of  domin- 
ion; the  instinct  of  subordination  and  submis- 
sion; and  the  instinct  of  display,  vanity,  and 
ostentation. 

These  and  other  instincts  belong  to  the  equip- 
ment of  the  individual  with  which  he  enters  the 
arena  of  life.  The  individuals  thus  equipped  are 
the  material  of  which  society  is  made.  It  is  useless 
to  say  that  this  equipment  is  rusty,  out  of  date, 
an  inheritance  of  savagery,  which  the  social  re- 
former does  not  need  to  take  into  account.  It 
represents  the  actual  material  which  is  to  be 
used  in  social  organization,  and  the  strength  and 
stability  of  the  structure  will  depend  upon  the 
strength  or  weakness  of  the  material.  The  undue 
repression  of  any  of  these  instinctive  tendencies 


'  64  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

will  result  in  irritability,  "balked  disposition,''  1 
and  that  very  unrest  which  we  are  trying  to 
diminish.  No  doubt  human  nature  is  plastic  and 
indefinitely  modifiable,  but  we  must  remember 
that  in  the  modification  of  human  nature  we 
have  to  do  with  ages,  not  with  decades  or  even 
centuries.  Anthropologists  tell  us  that  there  has 
been  little  change  in  human  instincts  for  thou- 
sands of  years.2  It  becomes  evident,  then,  that 
in  the  comparatively  short  period  of  the  next 
twenty-five,  fifty,  or  one  hundred  years,  social 
reconstructionists  will  have  as  their  material 
human  beings  whose  mental  constitutions  will 
be  much  the  same  as  during  the  long  record  of 

1  Compare  Graham  Wallas,  The  Great  Society,  pp.  64,  65. 

2  "Changes  in  the  institutional  structure  are  continually  taking 
place  in  response  to  the  altered  discipline  of  life  under  changing 
cultural  conditions,  but  human  nature  remains  specifically  the 
same."  "Such  limitations  imposed  on  cultural  growth  by  native 
proclivities  ill  suited  to  civilized  life  are  sufficiently  visible  in  sev- 
eral directions  and  in  all  the  nations  of  Christendom."  (Thorstein 
Veblen,  The  Instinct  of  Workmanship,  p.  18.) 

For  an  extreme  statement  of  the  plasticity  of  human  nature,  a 
theme  dear  to  the  heart  of  the  present-day  writer  on  social  topics, 
see  Professor  Todd's  Theories  of  Social  Progress,  pp.  1,  2.  But  it  is 
evident  that  Professor  Todd  is  not  writing  here  of  man's  original 
nature,  his  native  equipment  of  feeling,  desire,  impulse,  but  of  his 
"totality  of  mind,"  his  social  self,  his  finished  and  perfected  ego, 
the  result,  to  a  large  extent,  of  course,  of  his  education,  and  his 
family  and  social  life.  I  am  speaking  of  "the  deeper  functional  de- 
mands that  belong  to  one's  racial  history." 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  65 

the  past.  If,  however,  human  nature  is  to  be 
modified  to  the  end  of  eliminating  undesirable 
traits  and  with  the  view  of  adaptation  to  a 
civilization  whose  watchwords  are  commercial 
and  industrial  efficiency,  cooperation,  liberty, 
and  peace,  why,  then,  evidently  it  is  education 
which  must  be  the  central  thought  in  all  our  ef- 
forts rather  than  new  political  and  social  institu- 
tions and  new  laws.  But  relatively  little  is  said 
about  education  in  the  social-reconstruction 
movements  of  the  day.  Although  our  teachers 
are  overworked  and  underpaid,1  it  is  the  under- 

1  "A  careful  and  complete  survey  made  this  year,  covering  the 
year  1917,  in  a  Massachusetts  city  paying  very  nearly  the  maxi- 
mum salaries  for  the  country,  discloses  these  facts:  The  cost  of  liv- 
ing in  that  city  increased  6$  per  cent  during  the  past  five  years, 
while  teachers'  salaries  increased  11  per  cent.  The  result  is  that 
nearly  all  of  the  318  teachers  employed  report  a  relative  deficit  in 
their  pay  ranging  from  $25  to  $280.  .  .  .  Out  of  80  grade  teachers 
in  this  city,  73  are  obliged  to  do  outside  work  to  make  both  ends 
meet;  39  do  both  sewing  and  laundry  work,  5  sewing,  3  laundry 
work,  12  tutoring,  6  playground  work;  20  board  themselves  or  live 
at  home.  Not  only  do  stenographers  and  bookkeepers  receive 
higher  salaries  than  many  teachers,  but  even  women  day  laborers 
are  better  paid.  Domestic  servants,  even  in  the  smaller  cities,  re- 
ceive from  $J  to  $15  per  week  and  their  board.  The  untrained 
woman  who  does  scrubbing  and  work  by  the  day  in  the  city  of 
Springfield,  Massachusetts,  receives  $2.12  a  day  and  one  meal, 
which  is  nearly  twice  the  average  pay  of  teachers  in  the  United 
States,  and  about  equal  the  average  salary  in  the  enlightened 
State  of  Massachusetts.  In  1917  the  average  freight  brakeman 
received  around  $100  a  month.  In  the  same  year  the  average  salary 
of  19,017  teachers  in  the  city  schools,  including  388  high-school 


66  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

payment  of  the  industrial  worker  that  focuses 
our  attention. 

Our  social  reformers  should  go  to  the  psychol- 
ogist and  ask  the  following  question:  We  are  at- 
tempting great  and  radical  changes  in  our  social 
and  political  life  to  cure  certain  crying  evils. 
How  rapidly  may  we  expect  the  human  mind  to 
change  to  adapt  itself  to  the  new  order?  For  it 
will  offer  a  very  different  environment  from  that 
which  has  existed  hitherto,  involving  as  it  may, 
perhaps,  the  substitution  of  an  industrial  for  a 
political  society;  the  substitution  of  internation- 
alism for  nationalism;  possibly  the  abolition  of 
the  whole  capitalistic  system;  a  complete  and 
radical  change  in  the  position  of  women;  the 

teachers,  was  less  than  $700  a  year.  The  elevator  girls  in  one  of  the 
smaller  New  York  hotels  receive  $60  a  month  and  one  meal;  the 
telephone  operator  is  paid  $70  with  one  meal.  I  know  a  graduate  of 
one  of  the  best  New  England  colleges,  with  two  years'  experience, 
who  is  paid  for  teaching  in  a  high  school  less  salary  than  these 
women  receive.  This  is  simply  an  impossible  economic  situation. 
No  class  of  workers  can  continue  long  on  less  than  a  living  wage. 
These  figures  ought  to  bring  a  sense  of  shame  to  every  American 
and  cause  the  resolve  that  this  injustice  shall  be  righted  speedily." 
(The  Outlook,  September  24,  1919,  pp.  134-35.) 

Since  the  above  was  written  the  situation  has  become  worse.  An 
investigation  in  a  great  and  wealthy  Mid-West  State  revealed  the 
fact  that  carpenters,  plumbers,  and  brick-layers  received  twice  as 
much  pay  per  year  as  high-school  teachers  and  hod-carriers  about 
twelve  per  cent  more.  For  further  alarming  facts  about  our  schools, 
see  below,  p.  226. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  67 

universal  abstinence  by  legislative  enactment 
from  all  indulgence  in  alcohol;  and  the  wider  and 
wider  extension  of  industrial  labor  in  place  of  the 
original  craftsmanship  of  primitive  people. 

The  psychologist's  reply  will  perhaps  be  some- 
what as  follows:  Everything  changes;  human 
nature  changes;  human  instincts  change;  but 
they  change  very  slowly.  The  present  age  is  one 
of  very  slow  changes  in  man's  physical  and  men- 
tal constitution.  Evolution  now  is  taking  other 
directions.  There  has  been  little  change  in  the 
human  body  or  in  the  human  mind  since  the  his- 
tory period  began.  Man  has  no  more  mental 
ability  now  than  he  had  in  the  days  of  Aristides 
or  Themis tocles,1  and  his  passions,  instincts,  and 
impulses  are  much  the  same.  Possibly  the  same 
could  be  said  if  we  go  back  not  two  thousand 
years,  but  twenty-five  thousand.  The  picture  of 
the  man  of  the  Old  Stone  Age  as  drawn  by  Pro- 
fessor Osborn  2  reveals  a  tall,  straight,  and  fine- 
looking  being  with  a  brow  like  that  of  a  mod- 
ern Englishman  and  a  cranial  capacity  slightly 
greater  than  that  of  the  average  European  of 
to-day.  From  century  to  century  man's  social 

1  Compare  Francis  Galton,  Hereditary  Genius,  p.  330. 
a  H.  F.  Osborn,  Men  of  the  Old  Stone  Age.  Compare  also  Madi- 
son Grant,  The  Passing  of  the  Great  Race. 


68  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

inheritance  has  been  enormously  enriched,  his 
natural  inheritance  very  little.1 

Here,  continues  the  psychologist,  arises  a  pe- 
culiar situation  which  should  be  of  especial  in- 
terest to  the  sociologist.  While  the  human  unit 
has  changed  so  slowly,  society  has  changed  with 
startling  rapidity.  We  are  living  in  an  age  of  be- 
wildering changes  in  our  social,  economic,  and 
industrial  life.  Thus,  while  organic  evolution 
tarries,  social  evolution  proceeds  with  a  dizzy- 
like rapidity;  hence  disharmonies  result  which  it 
should  be  the  purpose  of  our  conscious  control 
of  human  society  to  lessen. 

The  instinct  of  gregariousness,2  for  instance, 
has  been  in  the  early  history  of  man  of  vital 
necessity  to  his  survival.  In  our  modern  life  ex- 
cessive urbanization  of  society,  proceeding  from 
the  same  instinct,  has  become  a  social  danger.  _ 

1  "Changes  are  going  forward  constantly  and  continually  in  the 
institutional  apparatus,  the  habitual  scheme  of  rules  and  princi- 
ples that  regulate  the  community's  life,  and  not  less  in  the  tech- 
nological ways  and  means  by  which  the  life  of  the  race  and  its  state 
of  culture  are  maintained;  but  changes  come  rarely  —  in  effect  not  at 
all  —  in  the  endowments  of  instincts  whereby  man  is  enabled  to  em- 
ploy these  means  and  to  live  under  the  institutions  which  its  habits  of 
life  have  cumulatively  created."  (Thorstein  Veblen,  The  Instinct  of 
Workmanship,  p.  35.  The  italics  are  mine.) 

2  "Experience  has  shown  that  the  instinctive  desire  of  the  sol- 
dier with  an  hour  of  free  time  is  to  go  to  town,  if  only  a  crossroads." 
(From  War  Department  Report  on  Training-Camp  Activities.) 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  69 

Another  instinct  upon  which  survival  has  been 
conditioned  is  that  of  pugnacity.  Even  until 
lately  in  human  unwritten  history  war  has  acted 
to  preserve  the  strong  and  eliminate  the  weak 
and  unfit.  Now,  under  modern  conditions,  war 
has  become  an  unspeakable  calamity,  bringing 
irreparable  damage  to  progress  and  civilization; 
but  the  warlike  instinct  persists,  a  subconscious 
fire  ready  to  be  fanned  into  flame  when  the  occa- 
sion arises. 

Again,  under  primitive  conditions  group  loy- 
alty was  an  indispensable  human  sentiment. 
Now  it  issues  in  periods  of  excessive  nationalism 
to  which  any  demagogue  may  appeal  to  check- 
mate movements  toward  international  amity 
demanded  by  modern  financial  and  industrial 
conditions.1 

Hence,  continues  the  psychologist,  the  goal  in 
social  reconstruction  now  is  not  the  production 
of  more  wealth  and  its  equal  distribution,  nor  the 
gaining  of  more  liberty,  equality,  and  opportu- 

1  Compare  the  action  of  Italy  in  the  months  following  the  armi- 
stice of  the  World  War  when  industrial  reorganization  was  impera- 
tive for  a  completely  disorganized  society,  but  when  the  whole 
thought  and  passion  of  the  nation  was  directed  to  the  matter  of 
national  aggrandizement;  or  compare  the  action  of  our  own  Sen- 
ators in  delaying  for  long,  weary  months  action  on  the  League 
of  Nations  by  an  appeal  to  a  narrow  and  selfish  nationalism. 


70  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

nity,  of  which  we  have  a  degree  which  would  have 
surpassed  the  fondest  hopes  of  those  living  but  a 
short  time  ago;  but  the  adaptation  of  our  social 
order  to  the  men  who  are  to  live  in  it;  for  when 
disharmonies  occur,  unrest  is  increased. 

Man's  original  nature  cannot  be  changed  very 
much  in  the  years  to  come  as  we  measure  time, 
but  his  instincts,  so  far  as  they  seem  to  us  bad, 
may  be  redirected  and  sublimated,  and  so  far  as 
they  are  good  we  may  use  all  our  efforts  to  con- 
serve or  create  a  social  order  that  is  in  harmony 
with  them.  The  method  of  repression  is  fraught 
with  danger. 

Modern  science  and  the  industrial  age  have 
already  effected  such  changes  in  man's  social  and 
material  environment  that  serious  disharmonies 
are  resulting,  since  he  is  compelled  to  live  under 
new  conditions  for  which  evolution  has  not  pre- 
pared him.  The  surface  of  the  earth  happened  to 
be  underlaid  with  iron,  coal,  and  petroleum,  and 
man  happened  to  discover  them  and  devise 
ways  of  using  them,  and  they  have  suddenly 
made  for  him  a  totally  new  environment.  For 
instance,  the  use  of  gasoline,  steam,  and  elec- 
tricity has  solved  the  problem  of  transportation 
without  the  healthful  exercise  of  walking  and 
carrying  burdens.  Electricity  has  enabled  man 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  71 

to  work  and  play  at  night,  when  formerly  he  had 
been  sleeping.  The  construction  of  air-tight, 
steam-heated  dwellings  has  lulled  him  into  com- 
fort, while  inducing  new  diseases.  The  discovery 
of  alcohol  has  provided  an  artificial  but  dam- 
aging quietus  for  the  disharmonies  caused  by 
his  new  manner  of  life  and  his  new  efforts  at 
thought.  Finally,  certain  discoveries  in  hygiene 
have  lengthened  life  and  decreased  infant 
mortality  so  considerably  that,  despite  the  de- 
creasing birth-rate  and  despite  the  extensive  emi- 
gration to  the  newly  discovered  Americas,  the 
population  of  the  principal  countries  of  Europe 
has  increased  from  110,000,000  in  1780  to  325,- 
000,000  in  191 1,1  a  situation  which  from  the 
standpoint  of  sustenance  is  beginning  to  create 
grave  difficulties. 

The  result  of  all  these  circumstances  is  that 
man  in  modern  society  finds  himself  in  a  position 
somewhat  like  that  of  the  proverbial  bull  in  the 
china  shop.  For  a  few  minutes  he  seems  to  con- 
template these  objects  of  art  with  quite  an  aes- 
thetic interest  —  until  he  begins  to  move,  when 
the  destruction  begins.  The  economic  and  social 
world  in  which  man  lived  before  the  war,  with 
its  accumulated  wealth,  its  culture,  its  refine- 

1  See  Fairchild,  Outlines  of  Applied  Sociology,  p.  215. 


72  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

ment,  and  its  dangerous  ease,  was  a  china  shop 
in  which  for  a  time  he  lived  quite  placidly,  his 
real  nature  concealed  under  a  veneer  of  civiliza- 
tion, till  suddenly  a  very  slight  movement  took 
place,  the  murder  of  an  archduke  somewhere, 
when  instantly  confusion  reigned  and  the  awful 
destruction  began.  It  was  man's  original  nature 
asserting  itself,  his  primitive  instincts  finding 
expression; and  since  we  may  becertain  that  they 
will  continue  to  find  expression  for  hundreds  of 
years,  it  will  be  well  to  build  our  house  of  civiliza- 
tion to  fit  the  man  who  is  to  live  in  it.1 

Illustrations  could  be  multiplied.  The  unbe- 
lievable flood  of  profanity  and  vulgarity  that 
burst  out  in  our  American  army,  both  among 
the  officers  and  men,  almost  from  the  day  of  in- 
duction, was  not  a  universal  tradition  of  war; 
for  we  are  told  that  it  was  much  less  in  evidence 
in  the  armies  of  other  nations.  It  seems  to  have 
been,  in  part  at  least,  a  reaction  from  the  re- 
pressions of  an  over-refined  veneer  of  civiliza- 
tion in  our  American  homes  where  it  is  a  crime 

1  I  am  not  at  all  forgetful  of  the  part  played  by  secret  diplo- 
macy and  the  machinations  of  so-called  statesmen  and  munition 
interests  as  causes  of  the  war;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  wise  lead- 
ers throughout  history  have  constantly  restrained  the  people  from 
war  and  this  has  indeed  happened  frequently  in  Europe  since  the 
armistice. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  73 

to  leave  your  spoon  in  your  coffee-cup  or  omit 
the  baby's  daily  bath. 

In  the  midst  of  this  same  "refined"  society,  in 
a  large  city  of  the  Middle  West,  at  a  time  of  great 
national  prosperity,  when  work  was  abundant 
and  well  paid  and  the  saloons  closed,  a  large 
body  of  citizens  both  men  and  women  formed 
themselves  into  a  mob,  lynched  a  negro,  burned 
his  body,  filched  shreds  of  his  clothes  from  the 
fire  for  souvenirs,  and  attempted  to  hang  the 
mayor  of  the  city  who  tried  to  enforce  the  law.1 

Where  are  we  to  seek  the  cause  of  this  stain 
upon  the  dignity  and  good  name  of  our  country? 
Clearly  not  in  bad  economic  conditions,  nor  in 
capitalism,  nor  in  poverty,  nor  in  alcohol,  nor  in 
inequality,  but  in  unbalanced  brains,  in  a  resur- 
gence of  savage  nature,  in  a  kind  of  volcanic  out- 
burst of  primeval  impulses  which  our  schools 
and  social  institutions  have  not  known  how  to 
lead  off  in  harmless  directions. 

1  The  Chicago  Tribune  of  September  30,  1919,  gives  the  follow- 
ing figures  taken  from  a  statement  of  the  National  Association  for 
Advancement  of  Colored  People:  "Between  January  1st  and  Sep- 
tember 14th,  19 19,  43  negroes  and  4  white  men  were  lynched  in  the 
United  States  and  8  negroes  burned  to  death.  The  total  lynchings 
from  1899  to  19 1 8  in  the  United  States  were  2522  negroes  and  702 
whites.  Less  than  24  per  cent  of  the  negroes  were  charged  with  at- 
tacks on  white  women." 

The  total  number  of  lynchings  in  1919  was  82,  of  which  75 
were  negroes.  In  the  year  1892  there  were  208. 


74  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

In  our  modern  social-reconstruction  schemes 
the  way  to  cure  evils  is  to  abolish  them  by  the 
method  of  the  "legislative  mill."  But  this 
method  has  its  limitations.  Human  nature  re- 
pressed suddenly  asserts  itself.  The  evils  of  alco- 
hol were  so  great  and  the  American  saloon  so 
offensive  that  we  have  been  forced  again  into 
the  method  of  repression  to  cure  this  evil.  It  will 
be  well,  however,  if  we  must  depend  upon  this 
method  rather  than  the  method  of  substitution, 
sublimation,  and  education,  to  see  that  these 
laws  are  never  relaxed,  not  even  in  the  distant 
future;  for  if  they  are,  we  may  expect  an  orgy  of 
dissipation  such  as  the  world  has  never  known, 
since  no  inner  power  of  resistance  against  the 
appetite  has  been  built  up  either  by  education  or 
by  natural  selection,  but  only  opportunity  for 
indulgence  denied.  The  notion  that  a  sober  na- 
tion may,  by  the  lapse  of  time,  be  " weaned" 
from  the  desire  of  alcohol  is  not  well  borne  out 
by  observations  upon  the  ravages  of  alcohol 
among  primitive  stocks.  The  "don't"  method 
has  been  pretty  generally  discredited  in  the  edu- 
cation of  children,  but  it  is  still  popular  in  social 
reconstruction. 

In  like  manner  we  may  "cure"  contagious 
diseases,  not  by  constructing  in  the  human  body 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  75 

an  inner  barrier  of  constitutional  resistance  to 
them,  but  by  erecting  an  outer  barrier  of  protec- 
tion against  the  germs  of  disease.  But  we  must 
make  sure  that  these  outer  barriers  never  break 
down,  for  if  they  do  the  enemy  will  find  easy 
victims. 

Another  evil  that  it  is  attempted  to  cure  by 
"abolishing"  it  is  the  evil  of  capitalism.  Exceed- 
ingly serious  abuses  have  grown  up  around  this 
institution.  We  have  become  very  conscious  of 
these  evils,  but  our  proposed  methods  of  cure 
have  often  exhibited  an  inexcusable  ignorance  of 
the  human  motives  upon  which  capitalism  is 
based.  Sometimes  they  take  the  crude  form  of  a 
proposal  to  abolish  capital,  since  it  is  an  "  evil," 
either  by  majority  vote  or  by  forceful  occupa- 
tion on  the  part  of  the  non-capitalistic  classes. 
But  here  we  have  to  do  with  one  of  the  most 
powerful  of  human  instincts,  and  this  method  of 
repression  may  not  work  well  in  practice.  It  is 
the  instinct  of  acquisition,  of  ownership,  the 
collecting  instinct,  the  instinct  to  save.  As  Mr. 
McDougall  says,  "The  importance  of  the  in- 
stinct of  acquisition,  from  our  present  point  of 
view,  is  due  to  the  fact  that  it  must  have 
greatly  favored,  if  it  was  not  the  essential  condi- 


76  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

tion  of,  that  accumulation  of  material  wealth 
which  was  necessary  for  the  progress  of  civiliza- 
tion beyond  its  earliest  stages."  *  It  is  one  of  the 
anomalies  of  our  reconstruction  methods  that 
we  exalt  the  importance  of  wealth,  wish  to  in- 
crease production,  quarrel  over  the  unfair  dis- 
tribution of  it,  and  then  propose  to  stifle  by 
collectivistic  schemes  the  very  instinct  that  has 
led  to  the  production  of  wealth. 

This  is  because  the  abuses  of  capital  have  be- 
come so  apparent  that  we  desperately  grasp  at 
the  most  obvious,  if  least  scientific,  method  of 
curing  them.  But  here  again  it  will  be  well  to 
consult  the  psychologist  and  proceed  by  other 
methods  than  the  method  of  repression.  Sub- 
stitution and  sublimation  will  again  be  safer 
and  will  require  long  years  of  careful  study  of 
the  human  mind  and  its  relation  to  industrial 
life.  We  may  by  an  act  of  legislation  abolish 
private  property,  but  the  instinct  of  ownership 
can  be  abolished  by  no  human  power,  and  if 
there  is  no  outlet  for  it  we  may  again  have  the 
condition  called  "balked  disposition,"  and  then 
something  socially  unpleasant  is  likely  to  hap- 
pen. A  man,  for  instance,  wants  to  own  his 
land,  not  to  till  some  acres  of  state-owned  land; 

.  l  An  Introduction  to  Social  Psychology,  p.  322. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  77 

and  he  will  work  any  number  of  hours  a  day  to 
gain  the  ownership  of  his  bit  of  land.  As  Profes- 
sor Parker  says: 

Man  lusts  for  land,  goes  eagerly  to  the  United 
States,  to  South  America,  to  Africa  for  it.  It  is  the 
real  basis  of  colonial  policy  and  gives  much  of  the  in- 
terest to  peace  parleys.  A  landless  proletariat  is  an 
uneasy,  thwarted,  militant  proletariat.  .  .  .  The  so- 
cial menace  in  the  American  labor  world  is  the  home- 
less migratory  laborer.  Russian  peasants  revolted  for 
land,  and  this  is  the  single  consistent  note  in  the  an- 
archy chaos  in  Mexico.  Man,  much  of  the  time,  ac- 
quires for  the  mere  sake  of  acquiring.  A  business  man 
is  never  rich  enough.  If,  however,  making  more 
money  uses  his  acquisitive  capacities  too  little,  he 
may  throw  this  cultivated  habit  activity  into  acquir- 
ing Van  Dykes  or  bronzes  or  Greek  antiques,  or,  on  a 
smaller  and  less  aesthetic  scale,  postage  stamps,  sig- 
natures, or  shaving-mugs.  Asylums  are  full  of  pitiful, 
economic  persons  who,  lost  to  the  laws  of  social  life, 
continue  as  automatons  to  follow  an  unmodified  in- 
stinct in  picking  up  and  hoarding  pins,  leaves,  scraps 
of  food,  paper.  The  savings  banks  in  large  part  de- 
pend on  this  inborn  tendency  for  their  right  to  exist. * 

This  does  not  mean  that  there  is  something 
called  "human  nature"  which  demands  that 
particular  form  of  society  known  as  "modern 
capitalism."  It  only  means  that  these  current 

1  Carleton  H.  Parker,  "Motives  in  Economic  Life,"  Proceed- 
ings, American  Economic  Association,  30th  Meeting,  December, 
1917,  p.  222. 


78  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

social-reconstruction  plans  which  have  been  de- 
signed to  supplant  capitalism  have  been  worked 
out  with  such  complete  disregard  of  human  psy- 
chology that  it  is  highly  improbable  that  they 
could  provide  any  stable  or  satisfying  society. 
With  a  virile  people  unrest  might  be  multiplied 
a  hundred-fold. 

Then  there  is  another  group  of  instincts  for 
which  no  adequate  provision  is  made  in  the  so- 
ciety of  the  future,  as  we  are  planning  it  to-day. 
I  refer  to  such  instincts  as  those  of  leadership 
and  mastery,  the  love  of  dominion,  the  love  of 
adventure  and  change,  and  the  lust  for  gambling. 

It  is  true  that  man  longs  for  wealth  and  com- 
forts and  luxuries:  he  even  longs  for  peace  and 
quiet  and  regular  work;  and  in  his  quest  for  these 
things  he  will  undergo  any  hardship  or  depriva- 
tion. Hence,  it  is  naively  assumed  that  a  society 
which  shall  provide  him  with  these  things  will  be 
an  ideal  society,  forgetting  that  a  good  society 
will  be  one  in  which  men  can  live,  and  that  life 
consists,  not  in  the  enjoyment  of  peace  and 
wealth  and  comforts  and  luxuries,  but  in  the  long- 
ing for  them  and  the  struggle,  pursuit,  and  cap- 
ture of  them.  "  The  good  things  of  the  world 
must  be  won  afresh  every  day." 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  79 

But  even  this  conception  of  life  is  narrow  and 
academic.  The  real  man,  revealed  to  us  by  the 
study  of  psychology  and  of  history,  is  wholly 
different  from  the  man  for  whom  the  social 
reforms  are  planned,  who  is  to  live  presuma- 
bly in  the  enjoyment  of  regular  work,  plentiful 
food  and  clothing,  a  comfortable  home,  and  so- 
cial stability  and  peace.  The  real  man  acts  im- 
pulsively rather  than  rationally  and  his  primal 
impulse  is  to  dominate.  It  is  gain  and  glory  that 
he  wants  more  than  bread  and  clothing.  It  is  a 
career  that  he  desires  more  than  peace  and 
safety.  It  is  adventure  that  he  craves  more  than 
work. 

It  is  instructive  to  look  back  upon  the  history 
of  the  development  of  man  in  society.  He  is  not 
by  nature  a  worker,  but  an  exploiter.  Suste- 
nance he  must  have,  but  it  has  always  been  eas- 
ier to  gain  it  by  plunder  than  by  work;  and  so,  as 
far  back  as  we  may  go  in  history,  as  at  the  pres- 
ent day,  social  group  has  fought  against  social 
group,  one  bent  on  robbery,  the  other  on  self- 
defense;  and  within  the  group,  when  unre- 
strained by  the  stern  hand  of  the  law,  individual 
has  preyed  upon  individual,  master  upon  slave, 
and  class  upon  class.  When  the  life  and  safety  of 
the  group  as  a  whole  have  been  threatened  by 


80  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

some  rival  group,  then  so  much  of  law  and  order 
has  prevailed  within  the  group  as  was  necessary 
for  social  integration,  because  only  by  social 
solidarity  within  could  the  group  itself  be 
saved. 

It  is  not  quite  accurate  to  say  that  men  love  to 
fight.  In  time  of  war  they  long  passionately  for 
peace.  But  they  love  to  dominate,  and  fighting 
is  incidental.  The  military  impulses  lie  very  near 
the  surface  and  their  roots  extend  deep.  If  hu- 
man progress  is  to  be  illustrated  by  a  figure,  it  is 
not  the  figure  of  a  man  climbing  a  ladder,  but  of 
one  elbowing  his  way  up  in  a  crowd.  Men  aspire 
always  to  something  different  and  better.  They 
love  to  gamble,  to  take  a  chance,  to  risk  some- 
thing and  gain  or  lose.  It  is  contrary  to  deep- 
seated  human  racial  habits  to  work  steadily  and 
monotonously. 

The  alarming  presence  of  gambling  in  its  silli- 
est and  most  childish  forms  in  the  great  mili- 
tary camps  of  our  country  during  the  war  was  a 
shock  to  our  people.  The  men  themselves  could 
see  plainly  enough  that  after  every  pay-day  a 
few  quick-witted  men  gathered  in  the  precious 
dollars;  but  the  gambling  went  on.  The  ordinary 
everyday  life  of  the  average  man  in  time  of 
peace  offers  some  expression  of  the  gambling  in- 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  81 

stinct  in  its  better  forms :  he  can  at  least  invest  a 
part  of  his  earnings  in  some  scheme  that  he 
thinks  may  pay;  but  the  flat  monotony  of  the 
army  life  was  unnatural  and  unendurable. 

Nowhere  is  the  dreamlike  character  of  our  so- 
cial schemes  seen  so  plainly  as  here.  There  is  no 
provision  of  any  kind  for  an  expression  of  the 
gambling  instinct.  It  is  not  to  be  sublimated  or 
redirected;  it  is  apparently  not  even  to  be  re- 
pressed by  the  stern  force  of  the  policeman's 
club.  In  childlike  naivete  we  ask,  Why!  who 
would  wish  to  gamble  when  all  are  well-fed, 
well-clothed,  and  well-housed,  and  have  abun- 
dant leisure  for  culture  and  self-improvement? 

The  conquest  of  a  great  and  new  country  like 
America  will  keep  a  people  busy  and  contented 
for  a  century.  When  it  is  conquered,  we  assume 
that  they  will  rest  and  enjoy  it;  but  really  that  is 
when  unrest  begins.  In  the  last  years  the  world 
has  become  rich  and  prosperous,  but  unrest  has 
grown,  being  increasingly  manifest  even  before 
the  war.  In  the  recent  years  in  America  work 
has  been  plentiful,  the  times  prosperous,  while 
comforts  and  luxuries  have  abounded  in  a  de- 
gree never  hitherto  dreamed  of;  but  murders 
and  bank  robberies  show  no  signs  of  abating  and 
strikes  have  become  almost  an  obsession.  The 


82  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

American  frontier,  so  long  as  it  existed,  was 
the  best  peacemaker  for  our  nation.  It  has  now 
been  reached  and  conquered;  and  unrest  will 
increase. 

How  different  the  reality  may  be  from  the 
vision  of  the  social  idealists!  In  rich  and  fertile 
America  we  have  looked  forward  to  a  land  teem- 
ing with  happy  and  contented  citizens,  free  from 
war,  free  from  foreign  oppression,  free  from  au- 
tocracy within,  free  from  grinding  poverty,  free 
from  class  oppression,  free  from  decimating  dis- 
ease, free  from  vice  and  intemperance.  The  near- 
est approach  to  this  elysium  which  history  has 
seen  was  in  Germany  before  the  war.  Here  was 
a  land  of  beautiful  cities,  well-governed  and 
orderly;  a  great  people,  well-fed,  well-clothed, 
well-housed,  well-educated,  well-behaved,  with 
a  fruitful  agriculture,  busy  shops,  successful  in- 
dustries, and  a  vast  and  profitable  commerce  — 
yet  this  same  Germany  broke  bounds  and  went 
out  to  conquer.  It  is  not  peace  and  plenty  that 
man  wants,  but  dominion.  And  yet  in  our  com- 
placent theories  of  society,  we  take  no  account 
of  this  instinctive  and  inherent  lust  for  power, 
and  we  innocently  assume  that  a  people  will  be 
happy  and  contented  if  poverty  is  abolished,  the 
labor  problem  solved,  opportunity  secured,  and 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  83 

science  and  inventive  genius  given  a  free  hand  to 
increase  wealth  and  material  comforts.1 

"Two  things,"  says  Nietzsche,  "are  wanted 
by  the  true  man  —  danger  and  play."  There  is 
just  enough  truth  in  this  to  set  us  thinking.  The 
standardized  world  that  is  planned  for  the  fu- 
ture offers  us  safety  and  work.  In  all  the  ages  of 
man's  slow  development  he  has  never  known 
safety.  He  has  lived  under  the  insecurity  of  war, 
of  robbers,  of  plunderers,  of  tyrants,  of  flood  and 

1  "In  any  serious  attempt  at  political  reconstruction,  it  is 
necessary  to  realize  what  are  the  vital  needs  of  ordinary  men  and 
women.  It  is  customary,  in  political  thought,  to  assume  that  the 
only  needs  with  which  politics  is  concerned  are  economic  needs. 
This  view  is  quite  inadequate  to  account  for  such  an  event  as  the 
present  war,  since  any  economic  motives  that  may  be  assigned  for 
it  are  to  a  great  extent  mythical,  and  its  true  causes  must  be 
sought  for  outside  the  economic  sphere.  Needs  which  are  normally 
satisfied  without  conscious  effort  remain  unrecognized,  and  this 
results  in  a  working  theory  of  human  needs  which  is  far  too  simple. 
Owing  chiefly  to  industrialism,  many  needs  which  were  formerly 
satisfied  without  effort  now  remain  unsatisfied  in  most  men  and 
women.  But  the  old  unduly  simple  theory  of  human  needs  sur- 
vives, making  men  overlook  the  source  of  the  new  lack  of  satisfac- 
tion, and  invent  quite  false  theories  as  to  why  they  are  dissatisfied. 
Socialism  as  a  panacea  seems  to  me  to  be  mistaken  in  this  way, 
since  it  is  too  ready  to  suppose  that  better  economic  conditions 
will  of  themselves  make  men  happy.  It  is  not  only  more  material 
goods  that  men  need,  but  more  freedom,  more  self-direction,  more 
outlet  for  creativeness,  more  opportunity  for  the  joy  of  life,  more 
voluntary  cooperation,  and  less  involuntary  subservience  to  pur- 
poses not  their  own.  All  these  things  the  institutions  of  the  future 
must  help  to  produce,  if  our  increase  of  knowledge  and  power  over 
Nature  is  to  bear  its  full  fruit  in  bringing  about  a  good  life." 
(Bertrand  Russell,  Why  Men  Fight,  pp.  40,  41.) 


84  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

storm  and  famine.  A  safe  world  appears  to  him 
very  attractive,  but  it  would  be  a  foreign  world. 
"One  longs  for  the  day,"  sighs  a  recent  writer, 
"when  the  house  of  civilization  shall  be  com- 
pleted, so  that  we  can  dwell  in  it  in  peace. " 
Well,  when  it  is  completed,  angels  not  men  will 
be  its  denizens.  Men  grow  and  struggle  and  de- 
velop; and  this  is  life.  The  other  is  death.  Life  is 
found  in  adventure  and  change,  in  the  struggle 
for  supremacy  and  position,  in  the  joy  of  leader- 
ship, in  loyalty  to  our  leaders.  It  is  realized  in 
the  battle  and  the  victory,  not  in  the  fruits  of 
victory.  It  is  realized,  not  in  the  steady  enjoy- 
ment of  good  wages,  but  in  the  successful  strug- 
gle for  higher  wages.  It  is  not  wealth  that  people 
want,  but  only  more  wealth  or  more  than  their 
neighbor  has.  The  joy  of  wealth  would  largely  van- 
ish if  our  neighbor  had  a  fixed  and  equal  amount. 
We  are  told  that  unrest  is  due  to  inequality, 
inequality  of  wealth  and  opportunity.  We  can  in 
imagination  picture  a  world  where  there  is  no  in- 
equality, but  it  would  not  be  life.1  Heaven  was 
formerly  pictured  as  a  place  of  eternal  rest,  and 

1  "The  mortal  defect  of  Utopias  is  that  they  are  too  static.  The 
kingdom  of  heaven  on  earth  is  always  a  permanent,  unchanging, 
perfect,  and  unalterably  stupid  place,  than  which  our  present  soci- 
ety, with  all  of  its  imperfections,  is  vastly  superior.  Utopias  break 
down  because  they  represent  attainment,  fulfillment.  But  society 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  85 

for  a  hard-working  man  or  woman  that  would  be 
bliss  —  for  the  first  few  days.  After  that  the 
walls  would  have  to  be  patrolled  with  guards 
with  rifles  to  keep  us  in.  The  writer  was  recently 
talking  with  a  young  girl  of  character  and  sobri- 
ety who  had  been  an  art  student  in  a  metropoli- 
tan city.  "Isn't  it  wonderful,"  I  said,  "that  in 
this  safe  country  of  ours  an  attractive  girl  can 
go  alone  to  a  great  city  and  nothing  happen  to 
her?"  "Yes,"  she  said,  "that's  just  the  trouble. 
Nothing  ever  happens!" 

Our  modern  reconstruction  schemes  are  built 
too  much  on  the  Chautauqua  plan.  Their  philos- 
ophy of  life  is  of  the  early-to-bed-and-early-to- 
rise-make-a-man-healthy-wealthy-and-wise  or- 
der. The  modern  boy  who  says  that  this  is  just 
hot  air,  and  that  such  a  person  misses  lots  of  fun, 
is  in  the  wrong,  no  doubt,  from  every  sane  and 
sober  and  logical  point  of  view;  but  he  is  right  as 
an  exponent  of  human  nature.  The  actual  man, 
as  known  to  the  psychologist  and  to  the  histo- 
rian, and  as  revealed  to  us  in  real  life  in  peace 
and  war,  will  not  live  and  work  contentedly  in 


does  not  strive  toward  fulfillment,  but  only  toward  striving.  It 
seeks  not  a  goal,  but  a  higher  starting-point  from  which  to  seek  a 
goal."  (Walter  E.  Weyl,  The  New  Democracy,  p.  354.) 


86  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

a  standardized  economic  world  under  scientific 
management  and  the  rule  of  efficiency.  By  the 
inheritance  of  a  half-million  years  he  is  adapted 
to  a  different  life,  and  while  in  the  end  his  in- 
stincts may  be  changed,  this  cannot  be  done  in 
half  a  century.  Our  instinctive  life  will  not  find 
adequate  expression  in  the  reign  of  universal 
peace,  universal  labor,  universal  equality,  and 
economic  prosperity  that  our  social-reconstruc- 
tion plans  contemplate. 

What  man  wants  is  not  peace,  but  a  battle. 
He  must  pit  his  force  against  some  one  or  some 
thing.  Every  language  is  rich  in  synonyms  for 
battle,  war,  contest,  conflict,  quarrel,  combat, 
fight.  Our  sports  take  the  form  of  contests 
in  football,  baseball,  and  hundreds  of  others. 
Prize-fights,  dog-fights,  cock-fights  have  pleased 
in  all  ages.  When  Rome  for  a  season  was  not  en- 
gaged in  real  war,  the  Emperor  Claudius  staged 
a  sea-fight  for  the  delectation- of  an  immense 
concourse,  in  which  nineteen  thousand  gladiators 
were  compelled  to  take  a  tragic  part,  so  that  the 
ships  were  broken  to  pieces  and  the  waters  of  the 
lake  were  red  with  blood. 

You  may  perhaps  recall  Professor  James's 
astonishing  picture  of  his  visit  to  a  Chautauqua. 
Here  he  found  modern  culture  at  its  best:  no 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  87 

poverty,  no  drunkenness,  no  zymotic  diseases, 
no  crime,  no  police  —  only  polite  and  refined 
and  harmless  people.  Here  was  a  middle-class 
paradise,  kindergarten  and  model  schools,  lec- 
tures and  classes  and  music,  bicycling  and  swim- 
ming, and  culture  and  kindness  and  Elysian 
peace.  But  at  the  end  of  a  week,  he  came  out 
into  the  real  world,  and  he  said : 

Ouf!  what  a  relief!  Now  for  something  primordial 
and  savage  ...  to  set  the  balance  straight  again. 
This  order  is  too  tame,  this  culture  too  second-rate, 
this  goodness  too  uninspiring.  This  human  drama, 
without  a  villain  or  a  pang;  this  community  so  re- 
fined that  ice-cream  soda-water  is  the  utmost  offering 
it  can  make  to  the  brute  animal  in  man;  this  city  sim- 
mering in  the  tepid  lakeside  sun;  this  atrocious  harm- 
lessness  of  all  things  —  I  cannot  abide  with  them. 

What  men  want,  he  says,  is  something  more 
precipitous,  something  with  more  zest  in  it,  with 
more  adventure.  Social  reformers  paint  the  life 
of  the  future  as  a  kind  of  giant  Chautauqua,  in 
which  every  man  and  woman  is  at  work;  all  are 
well-fed,  satisfied,  and  cultivated.  But  as  man  is 
now  constituted,  he  would  find  such  a  life  un- 
endurable. It  would  be  intolerable  ennui  and 
boredom.  If  forced  upon  him,  either  unrest 
would  increase  or  social  stagnation  follow. 

Man  is  not  originally  a  working  animal.  Civi- 


88  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

lization  has  imposed  work  upon  man,  and  if  you 
work  him  too  hard ,  he  will  quit  work  and  go  to  war. 

Thus  our  social-reform  schemes  are  wrongly 
conceived.  They  are  all  based  on  a  theory  of 
pleasure-economy.  But  history  and  evolution 
show  that  man  has  come  up  from  the  lower  ani- 
mals through  a  pain-economy.  He  has  struggled 
up  —  fought  his  way  up  through  never-ceasing 
pain  and  effort  and  struggle  and  battle.1  In  the 
society  of  the  future  man  has  ceased  to  struggle. 
He  works  his  eight  hours  a  day  —  everybody 
works  —  and  he  sleeps  and  enjoys  himself  and 
cultivates  his  mind  the  other  hours.  But  the 
citizens  for  such  an  ideal  social  order  are  lacking. 
Human  beings  will  not  serve.2 

Our  present  society  tends  more  and  more  in 
its  outward  form,  in  time  of  peace,  toward  the 
Chautauqua  plan,  but  meanwhile  striving  and 
passion  burn  in  the  brain  of  the  human  units,  till 
the  time  comes  when  they  find  this  insipid  life 
unendurable.  They  resort  to  amusement  crazes, 
to  narcotic  drugs,  to  political  strife,  to  epidem- 
ics of  crime,  and  finally  to  war.3 

1  "Man  is  at  his  best  when  rowing  hard  against  the  stream." 
(J.  Arthur  Thomson.) 

2  Compare  Sorel's  Social  Myth  Theory. 

8  Some  paragraphs  are  here  us<ed  from  my  book,  The  Psychology 
of  Relaxation,  pp.  249,  250,  251. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  89 

We  have  here  an  instructive  illustration  of  the 
failure  in  our  plans  for  social  reorganization  to 
take  account  of  psychological  as  well  as  eco- 
nomic forces.  The  society  which  we  are  planning 
for  the  future  lacks  the  element  of  zest.  Some 
shadow  of  romance  it  must  have,  if  it  is  to  abide; 
and  this  element  of  romance  or  zest  cannot  be 
gained  by  providing  eight,  or  indeed  ten,  hours  a 
day  for  recreation  and  culture.  It  is  life  that  the 
people  want,  not  recreation  and  culture.  What 
do  the  reformers  of  our  social  order  usually  have 
in  mind  for  these  eight  or  ten  hours  of  the  day 
not  spent  in  labor  or  in  sleep?  Libraries,  no 
doubt,  and  art  galleries  and  theaters  and  Chau- 
tauqua classes  and  moving  pictures  and  gym- 
nasiums and  athletic  games.  But  even  a  little 
knowledge  of  psychology  should  show  us  that 
these  things  do  not  satisfy  human  needs.  All  men 
and  all  women  long  for  some  kind  of  dominion, 
long  to  display  their  personal  power,  their  per- 
sonal charms,  their  personal  genius.  What  they 
want  is  a  career,  a  sphere  of  influence,  a  sphere  of 
action;  and  in  striving  for  these  things  they  are 
restrained  by  no  fear,  not  even  the  fear  of  over- 
turning the  social  order. 


CHAPTER  IV 

PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  IN  SOCIAL 
RECONSTRUCTION  (continued) 

THAT  our  social-reform  movements  are 
based  on  sentiment  and  on  certain  high- 
sounding  phrases,  such  as  equality  and  liberty, 
rather  than  on  an  accurate  knowledge  of  the 
human  mind  and  the  human  body  and  human 
history,  may  be  illustrated  again  if  we  consider 
another  group  of  instincts,  including  the  instinct 
of  sex  and  the  parental  bent.  The  destructive 
inroads  which  modern  industrial  methods  have 
made  upon  the  institution  of  the  family,  the 
spread  of  the  vice  of  prostitution  and  of  dis- 
gusting social  diseases,  the  increase  of  divorce 
and  the  alarming  decline  of  the  birth-rate  among 
the  better  classes  of  people,  as  well  as  the  appar- 
ent threatening  increase  in  feeble-mindedness 
and  neurotic  tendencies,  should  long  ago  have 
focused  the  attention  of  our  social  reformers 
upon  the  problem  of  racial  integrity.  Instead  of 
this  it  has  been  focused  upon  "votes  for  women." 
Our  sense  of  justice  has  been  affronted  by  the 
discrimination  against  our  women  in  forbidding 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  91 

them  the  right  of  suffrage,  while  we  have  over- 
looked the  far  more  serious  injustice  done  them 
by  the  presence  in  society  of  such  evils  as  those 
above  mentioned.  Of  course  there  are  plenty  of 
societies  for  the  prevention  of  these  evils,  but 
the  attention  of  the  world  is  not  focused  upon 
them.  It  is  focused  upon  such  things  as  rights, 
equality,  freedom,  a  living  wage,  etc. 

The  relation  between  the  sexes  and  the  posi- 
tion of  women  in  society  are  the  profoundest  of 
human  problems.  They  go  down  deep  to  the 
very  roots  of  our  social  life.  They  involve  the 
fate  of  the  most  sacred  of  human  institutions, 
the  family.  They  have  to  do  with  the  most  pow- 
erful of  human  instincts.  They  involve  customs 
and  language  and  habits  that  go  back  into  the 
remotest  historic  regions.  Upon  these  relations 
depends  the  physical  integrity  of  society.  Upon 
them  depend  the  health,  the  sanity,  and  the  wel- 
fare of  the  race. 

To  the  solution  of  these  great  problems  should 
be  called  all  the  aid  of  all  the  sciences  —  of 
history,  anthropology,  physiology,  psychology, 
sociology.  But  what  in  fact  is  the  method  of 
our  social  reconstructionists  here?  Virtually  it 
amounts  to  this :  We  call  together  the  men  of  the 
nation  and  say,  "All  those  in  favor  of  the  equal- 


92  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

ity  of  the  sexes  say  'aye.'  Those  opposed  the 
same  sign.  The  motion  is  carried.  Inequality  be- 
tween the  sexes  is  abolished."  Our  trust  in  mere 
political  institutions  is  pathetic.  We  have  not 
solved  the  problem  of  inequality  between  the 
sexes.  We  have  not  even  begun  to  study  it.  Nor 
have  we  solved  the  problem  of  injustice.  The 
glaring  injustice  of  conferring  the  franchise 
upon  many  ignorant  and  vicious  men  and  de- 
nying it  to  many  intelligent  and  worthy  women, 
we  have  indeed  partly  corrected.  The  still  greater 
injustice  to  our  children  and  to  the  women  of 
coming  generations  resulting  from  our  neglect  of 
racial  hygiene  has  scarcely  entered  our  minds. 
The  spectacle  of  a  woman  —  that  is,  any  kind 
of  woman  —  being  debarred  from  the  polls 
arouses  us  to  a  kind  of  frenzy;  but,  to  take  a 
single  example,  the  increasing  cigarette  habit 
in  women  merely  excites  in  us  a  sort  of  levity. * 
We  seem  to  be  deeply  impressed  by  the  fact 
that  women  have  the  obvious  right  to  vote  and 
to  an  equal  wage  'for  equal  work  and  to  enter 
freely  into  industrial  and  economic  relations; 

1  The  habitual  narcotizing  of  the  higher  brain  centers  by  means 
of  tobacco  may  possibly  have  no  serious  degenerating  influences  on 
racial  health,  so  long  as  it  is  confined  to  one  sex;  but  the  inter- 
marriage of  individuals  with  narcotized  brains  presents  a  problem 
that  we  have  not  even  begun  to  study. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  93 

but  we  seem  to  be  blind  to  certain  deeper  rights 
of  women  to  certain  immunities  from  industrial 
and  political  functions  in  the  higher  interests  of 
motherhood  and  the  sacred  institution  of  the 
family. 

Our  doctrine  of  rights  to  which  we  are  so  sen- 
sitive rarely  gets  beyond  the  momentary  aspect. 
The  right  of  our  children  and  of  our  children's 
children  to  be  well-born  has  never  troubled  us 
much.  Custom  and  convention,  with  which  w@ 
are  so  impatient,  and  human  instinct,  have  bet- 
ter protected  the  purity  of  women  and  been  a 
safer  guardian  of  the  physical  and  mental  integ- 
rity of  the  social  group. 

From  now  on  we  have  got  to  think  of  social 
welfare  in  terms  of  the  present  and  the  future. 
We  have,  indeed,  outgrown  at  last  our  narrow 
individualism,  and  we  talk  now  of  the  commu- 
nity and  of  society  and  of  the  collective  good; 
but  we  still  too  often  think  of  these  as  being 
the  community  of  the  present  moment.  We  are 
thinking  only  of  the  present  generation.  But  we 
must  begin  to  think  of  social  stability.  We  need 
a  movement  in  social  reconstruction  which  shall 
center  around  the  conservation  idea.  It  will  con- 
cern itself  less  with  economic  justice  and  more 
with  social  justice  in  the  sense  just  mentioned 


94  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

—  in  the  sense  of  conserving  for  the  benefit  of 
the  abiding  community  our  soils,  our  forests, 
our  fuel,  and  far  more  our  heritage  of  health 
and  morals. 

But  even  apart  from  the  question  of  racial 
health  and  sanity  and  the  racial  stability  which 
is  dependent  upon  them,  have  we  any  reason 
to  believe  that  the  society  of  the  future  as  we 
are  planning  it  will  give  the  necessary  expression 
to  the  reproductive  and  parental  instincts  ?  I  do 
not  mean  here  necessary  in  the  sense  of  main- 
taining the  physical  continuance  of  society.  This 
question  has  been  fully  discussed  by  many  writ- 
ers. I  mean  to  ask  whether  the  masculine  society 
which  we  are  planning  will  have  a  psychological 
basis,  so  that  it  will  work.  The  modern  age  is  al- 
ready an  intensely  masculine  age  and  the  tend- 
ency of  the  feminist  movement  would  seem  to  be 
to  make  it  more  so.  What  we  see  everywhere 
now  is  energy  and  activity,  the  desire  to  create, 
control,  exploit,  achieve,  master.  It  is  a  time 
of  great  endeavor,  of  expenditure  of  effort,  of 
change  —  a  tense  and  nervous  age.  All  these  are 
masculine  motives.  Never  before,  therefore,  has 
there  been  so  great  need  to  balance  all  these 
with  those  traits  that  belong  to  woman  —  poise, 
reserve  of  power,  relaxation,  calm,  conservation, 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  95 

and  conservatism.  Ancient  and  mediaeval  civili- 
zations tended  more  to  emphasize  these  other 
phases  of  human  life  —  restraint,  limitation, 
self-control,1  the  possession  and  appropriation 
of  things  of  objective  worth,  the  contemplation 
and  enjoyment  of  things  of  beauty  and  objective 
value.2 

Clearly  what  this  age  needs  is  another  kind  of 
feminism  than  the  one  in  vogue.  Women  do  not 
need  to  become  like  men.  The  whole  age  needs 
more  of  the  motive  which  belongs  to  woman,  the 
centripetal  motive.  If  now  women  had  become 
more  masculine,  why,  then  we  should  perhaps  be 
justified  in  fitting  our  social  institutions  to  their 
new  character.  But  they  have  not.  They  are 
in  their  real  nature  just  as  womanly  as  ever,  and 
no  change  of  social  institutions  or  wave  of  in- 
dustrialism and  commercialism  will  make  them 
different  in  future  years  as  we  measure  time; 
and  for  this  we  may  be  thankful.  They  can,  of 
course,  adopt  the  masculine  habits  of  the  age. 
They  can  enter  politics  and  the  industrial  and 
commercial  life.  They  can  accept  men's  jobs  and 
adopt  men's  dress,  but  the  total  social  results 
tend  to  friction  and  discord  because  happiness  is 

1  Compare  Ferrero,  Ancient  Rome  and  Modern  America. 

2  Compare  George  P.  Adams,  Idealism  and  the  Modern  Age. 


96  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

found  in  the  fulfillment  of  function,  and  social 
welfare  is  found  when  social  institutions  conform 
to  human  instincts. 

It  is  in  this  way  that  we  can  explain  certain 
social  phenomena  that  have  perplexed  our  social 
reformers.  When  we  thought  that  a  new  "dig- 
nity" had  been  laid  upon  women,  with  new  re- 
sponsibilities and  new  political  and  industrial 
opportunities,  when  society  seemed  to  be  rising 
to  a  high  level  of  morals  and  manners,  then  sud- 
denly a  wave  of  peculiar  sex  consciousness  and 
sex  exaggeration  has  burst  upon  the  world  even 
during  and  after  the  war,  manifested  in  extreme 
forms  of  dress,  in  crazes  of  erotic  dances  and 
erotic  moving  pictures,  and  revealed  in  a  new 
wave  of  sex  fiction  in  literature  and  upon  the 
stage.  Evidently  the  method  of  repression  does 
not  work.  Our  plans  for  social  reconstruction 
must  proceed  here  as  everywhere  along  lines 
laid  down  by  nature. 

Then  there  is  another  group  of  human  in- 
stincts which  must  be  considered  in  social  re- 
construction, the  instincts  of  loyalty,  devotion, 
and  sacrifice.  The  society  of  the  future,  planned 
so  largely  from  the  economic  point  of  view, 
makes  little  provision  for  two  of  the  most  power- 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  97 

ful  of  human  motives,  loyalty  and  devotion. 
Scientific  management  and  efficiency  are  to  take 
their  place.  Our  minds  are  so  constituted  by  our 
long  racial  history  that  we  want  and  need  to  be 
loyal  to  some  one  or  some  thing  and  devoted  to 
some  one  or  some  thing,  and  only  in  this  way  is 
the  best  that  is  in  us  drawn  out.  As  has  so  often 
been  said,  a  man  is  never  so  much  himself  as 
when  he  gives  himself  to  some  cause  outside 
himself.1 

In  times  past  the  sentiment  of  devotion  has 
found  fitting  and  satisfying  objects  in  the  State 
and  in  the  Church  and  in  the  Family.  For  his 
flag,  his  religion,  his  wife  or  children,  a  man 
pours  out  his  devotion  or  sacrifices  his  life,  and 
indeed  the  instinct  itself  traces  its  origin  to  the 
survival  value  of  these  institutions.  In  this  great 
complicated  modern  life  of  ours  our  interest  in 
the  Church  lags,  the  State  becomes  so  large  and 
safe,  and  indeed  almost  lost  in  the  industrial  and 
commercial  world,  that  only  at  times  —  for  in- 
stance in  time  of  war — does  it  enable  us  to  give 
expression  to  this  ancient  instinct,  while  the 
"emancipation"  of  woman  and  her  descent  into 
the  arena  of  politics  and  industry  lessen  our 
former  chivalric  devotion  to  her. 

1  Compare  James  Jackson  Putnam,  Human  Motives,  p.  59. 


98  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

What  in  the  new  society  is  to  take  the  place  of 
these  sacred  objects  of  our  allegiance,  loyalty, 
and  devotion?  When  a  State  becomes  large  and 
safe  so  that  the  defense  of  the  flag  no  longer  calls 
for  devotion  and  heroism,  we  find  this  devotion 
drawn  off  to  a  large  extent  to  all  kinds  of  parties 
and  organizations  within  the  State.  As  party 
loyalty  takes  the  place  of  loyalty  to  the  State, 
we  remain  loyal  to  our  political  parties  even 
when  they  no  longer  stand  for  any  particular 
cause.  Then  appear  all  kinds  of  organizations, 
societies,  clubs,  unions,  brotherhoods,  federa- 
tions, parties,  sects,  fraternal  orders,  lodges, 
syndicates,  leagues,  councils,  and  committees, 
which  command  our  loyalty  and  obedience,  al- 
lowing us  to  give  expression  to  these  instincts. 

During  the  age-long  history  of  man  on  the 
earth  he  has  lived  in  small  communities,  and  dur- 
ing much  of  this  time  his  survival  has  depended 
upon  this  group  solidarity  and  upon  his  faithful 
devotion  and  loyalty  to  the  group  and  its  lead- 
ers. This  profound  instinct  must  have  its  ap- 
propriate expression.  During  the  Middle  Ages, 
when  the  spirit  of  nationalism  was  at  its  lowest 
point,  devotion  to  the  Church  took  its  place, 
calling  out  in  the  service  of  God  and  the  Church 
all  that  was  best  in  man,  the  demand  for  the 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  99 

supreme  sacrifice  never  failing  of  faithful  re- 
sponse. Sometimes,  when  again  the  Church  be- 
came large  and  powerful  and  safe  from  attacks 
of  enemies,  allegiance  was  transferred  to  the 
smaller  monastic  orders.  Still  later  Chivalry  and 
the  Feudal  System  gave  expression  to  the  same 
instinct  of  loyalty  and  sacrifice. 

At  the  present  time  the  craze  for  organiza- 
tions of  every  conceivable  kind  is  in  part  ex- 
plained by  this  need  of  the  human  mind  to  ex- 
press its  loyalty  and  devotion  in  concrete  form. 
We  begin  to  hear  it  said  that  the  world  is  over- 
organized.  We  have  societies  for  the  accom- 
plishment and  prevention  of  everything  under 
the  sun.  Before  the  war,  little  dreaming  of  the 
unspeakable  horrors  that  awaited  us  just  ahead 
in  the  trenches  and  under  the  sea,  we  had  soci- 
eties for  the  prevention  of  cruelty  to  animals, 
and  anti-vaccination  and  anti-vivisection  socie- 
ties, and  societies  for  converting  the  heathen, 
and  so  on  without  end.  Organizations  multiplied 
on  every  side,  each  with  its  president,  vice- 
president,  secretary,  and  treasurer.  Even  the  in- 
fants in  our  churches  have  organized  under  the 
name  of  junior  endeavor  societies,  each  with  its 
infant  president  and  its  infant  secretary,  not  to 
speak  of  the  Cradle  Roll.  We  seem  to  live  in  a 


ioo  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

world  of  organizations.  From  the  lips  of  our  peo- 
ple throughout  this  great  land  we  listen  in  vain 
now  for  the  good  old  words,  "Our  Father  which 
art  in  heaven,"  and  instead  we  hear  the  familiar 
call,  "All  those  in  favor  of  the  motion  say  'aye.' 
Those  opposed  the  same  sign.  The  motion  is 
carried. " 

It  is  the  ancient  instinct  of  group  solidarity, 
upon  which  survival  once  depended,  which  is 
manifesting  itself  in  this  way.  The  primary  po- 
litical group  to  which  we  belong  has  become  in 
a  way  too  remote  to  provide  the  needed  expres- 
sion for  this  instinct.  So  innumerable  smaller 
groups  within  the  group  are  formed,  and  when 
there  is  no  common  enemy  to  fight  they  contend 
with  one  another,  or,  more  fatally,  against  the 
group  as  a  whole. 

The  various  reconstruction  movements  them- 
selves are  examples  of  this  instinct.  Movements 
such  as  Socialism,  Syndicalism,  Bolshevism,  and 
the  I.W.W.  become  cults  to  which  their  follow- 
ers offer  a  loyalty  and  devotion  that  is  symbolic 
of  the  whole  life  of  man  in  history.  If  these  cults 
meet  with  opposition,  if  there  is  a  little  mystery 
about  them,  if  they  inspire  a  little  fear,  if  there 
is  a  kind  of  underground  communication  be- 
tween the  members,  if  there  are  certain  secret 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  101 

symbols,  if  there  is  even  a  chance  for  something 
like  martyrdom,  if  there  exists  a  strong  feeling 
of  brotherhood  within  the  organization,  the 
spirit  of  loyalty  and  devotion  burns  brightly. 
But  the  peculiar  fact  here  is  that  we  who  are  ad- 
herents of  any  of  these  movements  never  suspect 
that  in  our  devotion,  our  enthusiasm,  our  loy- 
alty, our  sacrifice,  and  even  our  fanaticism,  we 
are  simply  living,  that  we  are  experiencing  life's 
great  realities  themselves,  that  we  have  here  the 
fulfillment  of  function.  We  do  not  understand 
that  this  expression  of  our  instinctive  life  is  life 
itself.  We  think  that  we  are  engaged  in  a  move- 
ment which  shall  prepare  men  for  life.  We  think 
that  when  that  particular  kind  of  social  order 
which  we  are  striving  for  is  realized,  then  we 
shall  live.  To  us  there  is  a  slight  element  of 
tragedy  in  the  matter.  We  think  that  we  are  en- 
during that  others  may  enjoy. 

Thus  these  movements  are  all  good.  They 
give  expression  to  our  fundamental  needs.  It  is 
unfortunate,  perhaps,  that  just  at  the  present 
time  the  actual  aims  and  ideals  of  these  move- 
ments are  not  of  the  highest  type  —  resting  as 
they  do  very  largely  upon  an  industrial  concep- 
tion of  life,  picturing  social  welfare  in  terms  of 
an  equitable  distribution  of  physical  goods  and 


102  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

an  equitable  distribution  of  opportunity  for 
winning  these  goods.  It  is  perfectly  conceivable 
that  the  same  degree  of  enthusiasm  might  be 
directed  to  wholly  different  ends;  for  instance, 
to  education,  to  the  development  of  the  fine  arts, 
or  to  the  application  of  science  to  the  physical, 
mental,  and  moral  improvement  of  man. 

Another  unfortunate  fact  about  some  of  these 
movements  in  their  extreme  form  is  that  in  their 
excessive  zeal  to  cure  the  evils  of  the  day  they 
would  go  to  the  extent  of  trying  to  overthrow 
the  whole  order  of  government  and  society  under 
which  we  live.  It  is  probably  true  that  America 
in  the  last  two  hundred  years  has  offered,  and 
does  to-day  offer,  a  more  perfect  field  for  the 
exercise  of  human  faculty  in  its  characteristic 
and  instinctive  forms  than  any  other  age  or 
country.  There  have  been,  and  still  are,  oppor- 
tunities unparalleled  in  the  history  of  the  world 
for  the  expression  of  every  instinct,  the  migra- 
tion and  homing  instinct,  the  housing  and  set- 
tling instinct,  the  instinct  of  ownership,  the  col- 
lecting and  acquiring  instinct,  the  instinct  of 
workmanship,  manipulation  and  curiosity,  the 
instinct  of  leadership  and  mastery,  the  instinct 
of  display  and  ostentation,  and  the  instinctive 
love  of  freedom  and  impatience  with  restraint; 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  103 

and  as  for  riches,  comforts,  and  luxuries,  the 
least  favored  of  to-day  are  like  the  most  fa- 
vored of  former  times.1 

I  was  speaking  recently  with  a  woman  en- 
gaged in  constructive  social  work  in  one  of  our 
cities.  I  asked  her  if  there  was  much  poverty  in 
her  city.  She  replied  that  she  thought  there  was 
a  good  deal.  She  mentioned  one  family,  where  the 
father  was  getting  only  twenty-one  dollars  a 
week,  where  she  felt  sure  that  the  family  was  not 
properly  nourished.  I  asked  her  finally  whether, 
if  there  were  fifty  people  in  the  city  who  did  not 
have  enough  to  eat,  she  would  say  that  there 
was  a  good  deal  of  poverty  there.  Yes,  she  said, 
even  if  there  were  only  one.  I  then  inquired  how 
many  people  there  were  in  the  city,  and  she  said 
about  sixty  thousand.  It  is  our  fine  idealism 
and  our  optimism  that  bid  us  always  forget  the 
fifty-nine  thousand  nine  hundred  and  fifty  that 
are  well-fed,  well-housed,  and  well-clothed,  and 
fix  our  attention  upon  the  fifty  that  are  not. 
But  as  long  as  we  have  done  practically  nothing 
to  improve  our  natural  inheritance  in  respect 
to  physical  stamina,  to  make  healthy  brains  in 

1  On  the  rapid  advance  of  every  class  in  America  toward  social 
prosperity  see  Walter  Weyl's  The  New  Democracy,  especially  chap- 
ters xii,  xm. 


104  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

healthy  bodies,  one  wonders  what  conditions  of 
environment  and  of  social  and  political  institu- 
tions could  have  produced  a  social  welfare  on 
the  whole  so  marvelous.  It  is  partly  the  power- 
ful development  of  sympathy  in  our  modern 
Christian  age  which  has  brought  us  into  the 
frame  of  mind  where  we  see  only  the  misery  of 
our  times  and  are  blind  to  its  wonderful  pros- 
perity.1 

The  real  menace  to  our  social  well-being  now 
is  not  poverty,  of  which  there  is  relatively  little 
in  America,  but  the  superfluous  wealth  of  the 
very  wealthy,  of  which  there  is  an  enormous 
amount.  As  life  is  pictured  in  these  pages,  real- 
ized as  it  is  in  the  fulfillment  of  function,  in  the 
exercise  of  our  powers,  in  activity  and  striving, 
in  the  living  out  of  our  instinctive  nature,  the 
rich  are  not  the  ones  who  live.  We  who  work 
and  organize  and  strive  are  the  ones  who  live. 

1  No  doubt  there  were  far  more  than  fifty  people  in  thle  city  of 
sixty  thousand  who  were  not  properly  fed  and  clothed  according 
to  our  present  notions  of  food  and  clothing,  as  measured  in  calories 
and  hygienic  standards.  Among  the  causes  economic  conditions 
do  not  figure  prominently,  as  the  records  of  any  bureau  of  associ- 
ated charites  would  show.  Ignorance,  vanity,  improvidence,  and 
disease  are  the  prominent  causes.  Some  of  the  improper  feeding  is 
due  to  improper  clothing,  the  money  for  the  former  going  to  the 
latter.  Both  improper  food  and  improper  clothes  are  found  among 
the  rich.  "Scanty"  clothing  i3  not  confined  to  the  poor. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  105 

To  rebuild  society  so  that  we  may  all  be  rich, 
have  every  desire  satisfied,  would  be  of  all  mis- 
takes the  most  fatal.  True  enough,  we  all  need 
to  have  opportunity,  but  opportunity  for  what? 
Not  opportunity  to  "go  to  school,"  to  get  on, 
to  work  up,  but  opportunity  to  live,  and  life  is 
found  in  the  activity  of  our  powers,  involving 
among  many  other  things  this  instinct  of  loy- 
alty. Man  is  so  constituted  that  he^  must  have 
some  cause  to  live  for  or  to  die  for  —  some  reli- 
gion, some  state,  some  flag,  some  woman,  some 
lodge  or  labor  union,  or  even  some  gang  or  band 
of  outlaws.  He  wants  to  be,  he  must  be,  drawn 
out  and  away  from  himself  to  something  which 
stands  for  an  idea.  This  is  life.  The  social 
Utopias  provide  for  existence,  but  not  for  life. 
It  is  the  precipitous  element  that  is  left  out  of 
the  reckoning. 

A  stable  society  in  which  there  is  a  dreary 
routine  of  work  and  amusement  will  present 
problems  as  serious  as  those  of  the  old  system. 
A  society  in  which  there  is  no  God  to  worship, 
no  women  to  adore  and  protect,  no  state  to  de- 
fend, no  wine  to  drink,  no  parties  to  fight  for, 
no  king  to  be  loyal  to,  no  classes  to  exploit,  and 
no  new  lands  to  discover  and  conquer,  might 
have  some  kind  of  happy  beings  for  its  citizens, 


106  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

but  not  human  beings.  They  have  a  different 
history. 

But,  it  will  be  asked,  what  will  happen  in 
such  a  society,  for  the  march  of  events  is  surely 
and  steadily  in  this  direction?  There  are  no 
more  new  lands  to  discover  and  conquer;  kings 
and  autocrats  are  out  of  date;  alcohol  has  been 
condemned,  and  rightfully;  women  have  de- 
manded, and  with  seeming  justice,  the  life  of 
industrial  activity  and  political  equality;  the 
God  idea  no  longer  enters  deeply  into  the  daily 
life  of  the  people;  wars  between  nations  will, 
after  our  recent  terrible  war,  no  longer  be  en- 
dured; the  laboring  classes  rightfully  refuse  to 
be  exploited;  and  internationalism  is  steadily 
supplanting  nationalism.  Well,  surely  no  one 
knows  what  will  happen,  but  it  is  conceivable 
that  things  may  happen  which  will  be  worse 
than  the  evils  we  escape  from.  For  instance, 
social  unrest  may  increase  until  civil  war  takes 
the  place  of  wars  between  states.  What  would 
happen  in  such  a  society  could  at  best  be  pre- 
dicted only  if  one  knew  whether  vitality  re- 
mained or  did  not  remain  among  the  people. 
Complete  stagnation  might  ensue.  Physical  de- 
generacy might  follow  upon  the  increase  of  bod- 
ily comforts,  and  there  might  be  an  increase  of 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  107 

morbid  sexuality,  surrender  to  sensuous  enjoy- 
ment, dancing  crazes  and  moving-picture  crazes, 
epidemics  of  crime,  and  vagaries  in  religion  and 
literature. 

We  are  told  that  if  war  be  abolished,  some 
substitute  for  war  will  have  to  be  found.  Yes, 
some  substitute  for  war,  and  some  substitute 
for  alcohol,  and  some  substitute  for  the  state, 
and  some  substitute  for  the  king,  and  some  sub- 
stitute for  God,  and  some  substitute  for  woman 
—  and  these  substitutes  will  have  to  be  pro- 
vided still  thousands  of  years,  until  the  mind  of 
man,  five  hundred  thousand  years  in  the  mak- 
ing, is  made  over. 

Literature,  poetry,  the  fine  arts,  will  appar- 
ently have  little  place  in  the  new  social  order, 
as  it  is  planned.  It  is  always  assumed  that  they 
will  be  present  and  are  to  be  enjoyed.  But  who 
will  create  these  works  of  art  ?  Art  and  literature 
spring  spontaneously  from  life  in  all  its  tragic 
incompleteness,  not  from  an  economically  pros- 
perous existence.  They  depend  upon  sacrifice, 
upon  loyalty  and  devotion,  upon  courage  and 
victory,  upon  sorrow  and  suffering,  upon  pain 
and  renunciation,  upon  ministry  and  service  to 
the  sick  and  wounded.  The  question  whether  a 
world  without  so  much  sorrow  and  suffering 


108  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

would  not  be  better,  even  if  it  should  be  a  world 
without  literature  and  art,  is  not  the  question 
we  are  here  discussing,  but  only  the  question  of 
adapting  our  new  social  order  to  the  beings  who 
are  to  live  in  it. 

A  certain  wise  teacher  said  that  a  man's  life 
consisteth  not  in  the  abundance  of  the  things 
which  he  possesseth.  It  consists  partly  in  self- 
sacrifice.  In  our  facile  plans  for  the  future  of 
society,  no  place  is  found  for  sacrifice;  yet  in  all 
the  long  history  of  mankind  sacrifice  has  had  a 
conspicuous  part.  "Man  has  sacrificed  himself 
for  the  State,  woman  has  sacrificed  herself  for 
man."  *  No  doubt  the  answer  will  be  that  it  is 
precisely  this  unnecessary  sacrifice  to  which  we 
wish  to  put  a  stop.  But  here  much  depends 
upon  the  meaning  of  the  word  "unnecessary."  It 
may  be  economically  unnecessary,  but  it  may 
be  spiritually,  morally,  even  socially  or  racially, 
altogether  necessary.  It  is  possible  to  gain  many 
worthy  economic  values  and  lose  many  still 
greater  spiritual  values  —  to  gain  the  whole 
world  and  lose  our  own  souls.  There  is  at  least 
some  truth  in  the  saying  that  he  who  loseth  his 
life  shall  find  it. 

1  Thomson,  Introduction  to  Science,  p.  198. 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  109 

What  conclusion,  then,  are  we  to  draw  from 
this  consideration  of  psychological  forces,  as 
against  the  economic,  social,  and  political  forces 
which  rule  the  thinking  of  our  time?  Is  the  old 
society  good  enough,  with  its  political  rivalries 
and  its  incessant  wars,  with  its  drunkenness  and 
crime,  with  its  women  as  ornaments  and  dolls? 
Some  of  these  things,  at  any  rate,  are  outgrown. 
War  is  now  racially,  as  well  as  economically,  too 
expensive.  Alcohol  is  a  narcotic  and  poison,  not 
a  stimulant,  as  was  once  believed.  Woman  has 
outgrown  the  doll  stage.  We  shall  not  go  back 
to  these  things.  But,  nevertheless,  it  is  a  mis- 
conception of  life  that  places  the  emphasis  of 
the  future  upon  peace  and  plenty,  upon  eco- 
nomic expansion,  upon  equality,  upon  comforts, 
luxuries,  wealth,  and  leisure,  no  matter  how 
equitably  the  wealth  is  distributed. 

Can  we  watch  the  tendencies  of  the  present 
and  doubt  how  this  wealth  and  leisure  would  be 
spent?  It  requires  no  great  exercise  of  the  imag- 
ination to  see  larger  and  larger  streams  of  people 
flowing  to  the  moving-picture  shows,  longer  and 
longer  lines  of  automobiles  going  nowhere  in 
particular,  bulkier  and  bulkier  editions  of  the 
Sunday  newspapers  filled  with  things  neither 
interesting  nor  important,  more  and  more  pages 


no  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

of  advertisements  of  the  latest  fashions  in  dress. 
That  art,  literature,  religion,  patriotism,  and 
morality,  that  any  of  the  higher  values  of  life, 
would  spring  from  the  wealth  and  leisure  of 
such  an  industrial  society  is  a  pure  assumption. 
In  the  past  they  have  sprung  directly  out  of  the 
storm  and  stress  of  life. 

Mr.  Charles  H.  Pearson  evidently  had  a  pic- 
ture of  this  industrial  life  of  the  future  when  he 
wrote  in  his  "National  Life  and  Character": 

Our  morality  will  then  be  the  emasculate  tender- 
ness of  those  who  shrink  from  violence,  not  because 
it  is  a  transgression  of  order,  but  because  it  is  noisy 
and  coarse;  and  having  outlived  strong  passions  and 
the  energy  by  which  will  translates  itself  into  act,  we 
shall  plume  ourselves  on  having  abolished  vice.  Our 
intellectual  discipline  will  be  derived  from  the  Year- 
Book  and  the  Review  and  our  intellectual  pleasure 
from  the  French  novel.  Yet  there  seems  no  reason 
why  men  of  this  kind  should  not  perpetuate  the  race, 
increasing  and  multiplying,  until  every  rood  of  the 
earth  maintains  its  men  and  the  savor  of  vacant  lives 
will  go  up  to  God  from  every  home. 

The  modern  individual  is  a  very  complicated 
being,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  he  will  live 
peacefully  and  contentedly  in  a  standardized 
world,  in  a  society  based  on  work  and  wages  and 
the  philosophy  of  equalitarianism.  The  attempt 
to  put  him  into  such  a  harness  might  result  in  an 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  in 

increase  rather  than  a  decrease  of  unrest.  The 
real  man  is  restless,  aggressive,  and  aspiring.  He 
is  not  a  being  who  enjoys  labor  and  leisure  and 
wealth.  Nor  can  it  really  be  said  that  he  profits 
by  them.  What  he  enjoys  is  the  struggle  for 
these  things,  and  this  is  what  in  the  end  he 
profits  by.  The  real  man  of  the  present  day  likes 
to  speculate  and  gamble.  He  wants  to  take  a 
chance,  to  risk  something  and  gain  or  lose.  He 
loves  the  city  rather  than  the  country  and  pre- 
fers electric  light  to  sunlight.  He  likes  excite- 
ment and  the  company  of  his  fellows.  He  is 
fond  of  rapid  transit  by  motor-car  or  railroad. 
He  delves  eagerly  into  new  problems  of  science 
and  invention.  He  exploits  new  lands  and  new 
routes  of  trade.  He  invents  new  guns  and  ex- 
plosives and  poison  gases.  He  delights  in  organ- 
izations of  all  sorts,  societies,  clubs,  unions, 
orders,  fraternities.  He  is  very  sensitive  to  his 
rights  and  emotionally  sympathetic  with  all 
whose  rights  are  invaded.  He  is  an  explorer,  in- 
ventor, exploiter.  He  has  unlimited  energy,  is 
frank,  courageous,  and  hopeful.  He  loves  sport 
and  play,  but  will  work  indomitably  upon  what- 
ever he  wishes  to  achieve.  This  is  the  real  man 
of  our  modern  world.  This  is  the  material  which 
the   social   reconstructionist  has  to  deal  with, 


ii2  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

and  his  new  society  must  be  adapted  to  this 
material.  What  this  real  man  wants  is  achieve- 
ment, not  work  and  wages  and  leisure  and  sleep. 

America  during  the  past  hundred  years  has 
offered  an  almost  perfect  field  for  this  real  man's 
endeavors,  and  he  has  built  up  here,  not,  to  be 
sure,  a  great  civilization,  for  that  would  demand 
a  more  artistic  genius  and  a  different  tempera- 
ment, but  certainly  a  notable  one,  and  the  social 
system  in  which  he  has  worked  has  been  on  the 
whole  admirably  adapted  to  his  nature. 

It  is  very  doubtful  whether  what  is  called 
social  unrest  will  be  lessened  by  increasing  wages 
and  decreasing  hours,  no  matter  how  far  this 
may  go.  Your  really  happy  man  is  not  the  one 
whose  hours  of  labor  are  shortened  to  six  or 
eight  a  day,  but  one  who  is  working  twelve 
hours  on  something  that  he  is  really  interested 
in,  say  the  construction  or  invention  of  a  ma- 
chine that  is  to  give  him  fame  or  fortune,  or 
the  promotion  of  some  new  enterprise,  or  the 
organization  of  a  new  trust  or  labor  union. 

We  are  trying  to  find  some  political  or  social 
machinery  to  make  men  happy,  but  the  only 
way  to  be  happy  is  to  be  busy. 

If  we  think  of  man  as  a  being  who  strives 
rather  than  as  a  being  who  works,  eats,  and 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  113 

sleeps,  the  problem  of  social  reconstruction 
takes  on  quite  a  different  aspect.  History  looks 
with  approval  upon  the  men  who  have  striven, 
not  the  men  who  have  enjoyed.  None  of  the  he- 
roes of  the  past  would  fit  into  the  standardized 
world  of  the  future.  Only  efficiency  is  to  count 
there.  History  has  been  a  series  of  struggles  — 
for  political  liberty,  for  civil  liberty,  for  religious 
liberty,  and  now  it  is  a  struggle  for  economic 
freedom.  To  the  sentimental,  unthinking  mind 
this  constant  and  unending  struggle  seems  pa- 
thetic. It  is  a  pity,  we  say,  that  these  things 
should  have  been  withheld  from  man  and  that  he 
is  obliged  with  such  bitterness  to  win  them,  and 
it  always  seems  to  us  that  the  forces  he  is  con- 
tending against  are  malevolent  forces  viciously 
denying  him  his  rights,  just  as  the  laboring 
classes  at  the  present  time  look  upon  the  capi- 
talistic classes  as  malevolent  beings  who  could, 
if  they  chose,  will  that  all  these  evils  should 
cease. 

The  ideal  man,  as  he  is  pictured  in  the  writ- 
ings of  the  day,  is  the  workman.  We  see  him  in 
his  artisan's  clothes,  tall,  straight,  strong,  and 
clear  of  vision,  confident  of  his  rights,  smarting 
under  the  injustice  of  our  social  system,  repre- 
senting the  dignity  of  labor.  Opposed  to  him  is 


ii4  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

the  capitalist,  well-dressed,  his  car  waiting  at  the 
curb,  his  home  elegantly  furnished,  his  sons  and 
daughters  in  college,  but  his  eyes  shifty  and  his 
confidence  disturbed.  To  our  minds  the  work- 
man represents  the  higher  intrinsic  value,  but 
the  prizes  have  gone  to  the  capitalist.  This  is 
social  injustice. 

The  injustice,  indeed,  is  obvious  and  intolera- 
ble, but  the  whole  picture  is  based  on  fictitious 
values  and  unsound  psychology.  Society  is  not 
made  up  of  two  hostile  classes  composed  of  self- 
ish capitalists  and  labor-loving  artisans.  It  is 
made  up  of  great  masses  of  everyday  people,  few 
of  them  loving  work  and  all  of  them  loving 
power.  Wrongs  many,  indeed,  there  are,  but  the 
proposed  method  of  righting  them  is  superficial 
and  unpromising. 

The  theory  is  that  the  workman's  contribu- 
tion to  industry  being  at  least  equal  to  the 
capitalist's,  he  should  also  enjoy  the  prizes,  the 
prizes  being  conceived  as  material  comforts  and 
educational  advantages.  Since  obviously  there 
is  not  wealth  enough  in  the  world  to  be  distrib- 
uted to  all  on  such  a  scale,  increased  production 
is  the  first  necessity,  involving  more  and  more 
industrial  labor,  larger  and  larger  shops  and  fac- 
tories, faster  and  faster  means  of  transportation, 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  115 

bigger  and  bigger  centers  of  trade,  more  and 
more  industrialized  colleges. 

But  such  a  civilization  is  not  worth  the  creat- 
ing. In  itself  it  would  have  no  ultimate  worth.  It 
would  not  satisfy  any  basic  human  instincts  or 
interests,  and,  worst  of  all,  it  would  dispel  un- 
rest only  at  the  cost  of  vitality  and  progress.  It 
rests  upon  the  theory  of  the  intrinsic  value  of  in- 
dustrial labor  and  upon  the  intrinsic  value  of 
comforts  and  luxuries  and  that  kind  of  education 
which  promotes  them.  It  is  only  because  we 
have  come  to  put  so  high  a  value  upon  material 
comforts  that  industrial  labor  has  taken  so  high 
a  place  in  our  estimate  of  worth.  But  industrial 
labor  is  not  in  itself  an  ultimate  value.  It  is 
rather  in  itself  an  evil,  which  our  worship  of 
wealth  has  forced  upon  us.  It  is  drudgery.  The 
only  labor  which  is  of  intrinsic  value  is  creative 
work  which  satisfies  the  instinct  of  constructive- 
ness.  As  Professor  Hocking  says,  "Manual  labor 
which  is  robbed  of  all  mental  interest  is  degrad- 
ing." 

From  every  point  of  view,  therefore,  we  see 
the  failure  of  the  argument  that  since  the  total 
wealth  of  our  land,  if  it  were  equally  distributed 
among  all,  would  not  suffice  for  an  adequate 


n6  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

scale  of  living,  poverty  is  to  be  cured  only  by  in- 
creasing production.  The  constant  rise  of  the 
scale  of  living,  the  constantly  growing  tendency 
to  include  more  and  more  comforts  and  luxuries 
in  an  adequate  scale  of  living,  involves  the  end- 
less increase  of  industrial  labor. 

The  fault  in  our  reconstruction  plans  is  not  in 
the  attempt  to  correct  social  injustice,  but  in  our 
erroneous  estimate  of  what  constitutes  the  real 
prizes  of  life.  Are  our  so-called  upper  classes 
really  upper  in  any  sense?  Has  it  been  proved 
that  they  have  attained  life's  real  values,  or 
have  they  merely  gained  a  certain  number  of 
comforts  which  are  really  racial  and  social  dan- 
gers ?  Before  it  could  be  shown  that  they  are  real 
values  they  would  have  to  meet  two  conditions: 
first,  it  should  be  shown  that  they  satisfy  funda- 
mental human  interests,  and,  second,  that  they 
conduce  to  social  welfare  and  stability.  It  is 
doubtful  whether  they  can  meet  either  of  these 
conditions. 

It  would  seem,  therefore,  that  our  present  so- 
cial-reform movements  promise  merely  to  in- 
tensify the  evils  of  our  present  system.  They 
rarely  rise  to  the  contemplation  of  a  social  order 
which  shall  offer  really  higher  human  values. 
They  center  eternally  about  the  injustice  of  an 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  FACTORS  117 

inequality  which  debars  a  portion  of  the  people 
from  the  so-called  prizes  of  life,  the  prizes  them- 
selves being  of  no  real  value  and  of  doubtful 
benefit  to  mankind.  The  real  menace  to  our  fu- 
ture happiness  is  not  poverty,  slavery,  tyranny, 
oppression,  and  inequality.  These  things,  like 
the  idle  rich,  are  of  course  an  offense  to  our  age 
and  will  steadily  be  eliminated.  But  the  real  dan- 
gers of  the  future  are  the  mediocrity  and  stagna- 
tion which  would  ultimately  fall  upon  the  mere 
increase  of  wealth  and  its  even  distribution. 
This  would  be  to  settle  upon  all  classes  of  society 
the  devitalizing  and  enervating  effects  of  mere 
comforts,  conveniences,  luxuries,  and  leisure. 

What  we  have  to  do  is  to  find  a  social  order 
which  shall  save  all  classes  from  the  deadening 
influences  of  wealth  and  leisure,  and  which  shall 
give  so  much  scope  to  basic  human  interests  and 
instincts  as  shall  redeem  our  new  world  from  be- 
coming stale  and  uninteresting.  This  new  social 
order  will  not  come  by  sudden  revolution,  but  by 
education  and  patient  effort. 

Really  the  social  problem  of  the  future  is  to 
reconcile  the  love  of  romance  with  the  needs  of 
practical  life.  The  picturing  of  social  Utopias, 
the  agitations  of  our  political  parties,  the  organ- 
ization of  labor  unions,  particularly  the  novel 


u8  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

and  exciting  strikes,  provide  the  dramatic  ele- 
ment in  life  which  the  human  heart  demands. 
The  labor  crisis  in  which  we  live  fulfills  in  a  way 
this  romantic  longing,  but  to  the  participants 
themselves  as  well  as  to  the  onlookers  it  seems 
a  bitter  though  necessary  struggle  for  a  future 
good.  But  when  we  calmly  examine  this  future 
good,  this  Socialistic  or  Syndicalistic  or  Bolshe- 
vistic or  Non-Partisan  League  society  of  the  fu- 
ture, we  discover  that  it  is  a  picture  of  a  wholly 
drab  and  uninteresting  existence  from  which  all 
shadow  of  romance  has  departed.  In  such  a  so- 
ciety, if  vitality  remained,  unrest  would  in- 
crease. If  vitality  did  not  remain,  stagnation  and 
physical  and  moral  degeneracy  would  be  sure  to 
follow. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK 

IN  the  last  chapter  we  have  seen  that  if  society- 
is  to  be  reconstructed  to  the  end  of  diminish- 
ing social  unrest,  it  must  be  reconstructed  on  the 
basis  of  life j  and  not  on  the  basis  of  an  adequate 
scale  of  living,  material  comforts,  wealth,  or 
efficiency.  The  aim  must  be  to  furnish  a  field  for 
human  activities  and  to  satisfy  instinctive  needs, 
these  essentially  human  dispositions  being  dis- 
ciplined, suppressed,  or  sublimated  only  to  a  de- 
gree necessary  to  insure  such  an  integrated  and 
stable  social  life  as  shall  guarantee  to  succeeding 
generations  a  like  opportunity. 

Dr.  Cabot,  in  his  book  "What  Men  Live  By,9' 
says  that  real  life  consists  of  four  things:  work, 
play,  love,  and  worship.  The  latter  two  I  have 
considered  under  other  names  in  the  preceding 
chapters.  It  will  be  interesting  now  to  think  of 
work  under  its  psychological  aspects.  If  psy- 
chology should  be  able  to  throw  any  light  what- 
ever on  this  problem  of  labor  which  is  con- 
vulsing the  world,  it  is  certainly  time  that  this 
should  be  done.  It  may  be  able  to  throw  little 
light  on  such  questions  of  the  day  as  how  to  re- 


120  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

duce  the  hours  of  labor  and  still  get  the  world's 
work  done,  how  to  harmonize  capital  and  labor, 
or  how  to  reorganize  society  so  that  all  shall  be 
laborers,  because  such  questions,  as  they  are 
now  discussed,  presuppose  a  certain  industrial 
system  which  might  not  itself  rest  on  a  psycho- 
logical basis.  On  the  other  hand,  psychology 
ought  to  be  able  to  make  some  contribution  to 
the  place  of  labor  in  the  life  of  man,  and  until 
this  is  settled  we  cannot  hope  to  determine  the 
place  of  labor  in  society. 

To  be  sure,  much  has  been  written  lately 
about  the  psychology  of  work,  but  from  quite 
another  standpoint:  namely,  the  standpoint  of 
efficiency.  Even  the  human  instincts  have  been 
tabulated  for  the  purpose  of  showing  what  ap- 
peal can  be  made  to  the  worker  through  his  in- 
stincts to  further  his  efficiency.1  This  is  surely 
the  last  word  in  exploiting  the  laborer  for  the 
material  aggrandizement  of  society.  "Et  tu, 
Brute,"  the  laborer  might  say  to  the  psycholo- 
gist. In  this  age  of  excessive  capitalism  it  seems 
a  pity  to  attempt  to  capitalize  even  the  human 
instincts. 

In  all  the  reconstruction  movements  of  the 

1  Compare  Walter  Dill  Scott,  Increasing  Human  Efficiency  in 
Business;  Hugo  Miinsterberg,  Psychology  and  Industrial  Efficiency. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        121 

day  an  extreme  emphasis  is  placed  upon  work. 
It  is  hoped  that  the  idle  rich  and  idlers  of  all 
kinds  will  get  to  work.  It  is  hoped  that  an  ever- 
increasing  number  of  the  men  of  the  world  will 
lend  a  hand  in  the  work  of  the  world.  In  some  of 
the  proposed  social  reforms  it  is  planned,  not 
merely  that  society  shall  rest  upon  an  industrial 
basis,  but  that  it  shall  actually  be  composed  of 
industrial  workers  and  of  no  others.  Since  this  is 
an  industrial  age,  and  since  there  is  an  immense 
amount  of  industrial  work  to  be  done,  and  since 
the  life  of  the  industrial  worker  is  now  of  such 
a  kind  as  to  cause  constant  friction  and  discon- 
tent, it  becomes  imperative  to  examine  very 
carefully  into  the  relation  of  industrial  labor  to 
the  human  mind. 

Is  man  by  nature  a  laborer?  If  not,  what  will 
happen  in  a  social  order  in  which  man  is  essen- 
tially and  primarily  a  laborer?  Among  the  in- 
stincts we  did  not  discover  any  instinct  of  labor, 
although  we  did  discover  an  instinct  of  work- 
manship, and  even  this  was  only  one  of  a  long 
list  of  instinctive  activities.  What  is  the  relation 
between  workmanship  as  it  appears  among  the 
instincts,  and  labor  as  it  appears  in  the  indus- 
trial world  of  to-day  or  in  the  programme  of 
social  reformers? 


122  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

We  recall  that  labor  was  imposed  upon  Adam 
as  a  curse,  and  we  recall  Carlyle's  siren  song 
about  man's  rinding  in  labor  his  final  glory  and 
only  real  joy,1  and  we  are  a  little  perplexed  as  to 
what  the  real  place  of  labor  is  in  man's  natural 
life.  This  fundamental  problem  needs  to  be 
worked  out. 

Notwithstanding  Dr.  Cabot's  praise  of  work 
and  Carlyle's  adoration  of  it,  work  seems  to 
have  played  a  very  unimportant  part  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  world  if  we  may  judge  by  the  chron- 
icles of  history.  Poetry,  fiction,  painting,  sculp- 

1  "  The  latest  Gospel  in  this  world  is,  Know  thy  work  and  do 
it.  'Know  thyself:  long  enough  has  that  poor  'self  of  thine  tor- 
mented thee;  thou  wilt  never  get  to  'know'  it,  I  believe!  Think  it 
not  thy  business,  this  of  knowing  thyself;  thou  art  an  unknowable 
individual:  know  what  thou  canst  work  at;  and  work  at  it,  like  a 
Hercules!  That  will  be  thy  better  plan. 

"It  has  been  written,  'an  endless  significance  lies  in  Work';  a 
man  perfects  himself  by  working.  Foul  jungles  are  cleared  away, 
fair  seed-fields  rise  instead,  and  stately  cities;  and  withal  the  man 
himself  first  ceases  to  be  jungle  and  foul  unwholesome  desert 
thereby.  Consider  how,  even  in  the  meanest  sorts  of  Labour,  the 
whole  soul  of  a  man  is  composed  into  a  kind  of  real  harmony,  the 
instant  he  sets  himself  to  work!  Doubt,  Desire,  Sorrow,  Remorse, 
Indignation,  Despair  itself,  all  these  like  hell-dogs  lie  beleaguering 
the  soul  of  the  poor  day-worker,  as  of  every  man:  but  he  bends 
himself  with  free  valour  against  his  task,  and  all  these  are  stilled, 
all  these  shrink  murmuring  far  off  into  their  caves.  The  man  is  now 
a  man.  The  blessed  glow  cjf  Labour  in  him,  is  it  not  as  purifying 
fire,  wherein  all  poison  is  burnt  up,  and  of  sour  smoke  itself  there  is 
made  bright  blessed  flame!"  (Carlyle,  Past  and  Present,  p.  197.) 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        123 

ture,  and  even  the  history  of  peoples  give  us  a 
picture  of  other  forms  of  human  activity  than 
work.  Man  is  represented  not  at  work,  but  at 
war,  at  the  chase,  at  worship  and  magic,  at  love- 
making,  at  contests  and  athletic  sports,  at  legis- 
lation and  politics,  at  study,  prayer,  and  con- 
templation, or  in  travel  and  exploration.  Cain, 
the  tiller  of  the  soil,  did  not  find  favor  with  Je- 
hovah. The  "twelve  labors  of  Hercules"  turn 
out  upon  examination  to  be  for  the  most  part 
very  exciting  adventures.  The  gods  of  all  na- 
tions, who  supposedly  typify  the  happy  and 
ideal  life,  are  seldom  represented  as  working. 
The  Greek  gods  did  not  work;  they  banqueted, 
intrigued,  fought,  and  loved  women.  Only  He- 
phaestus worked,  and  he  was  the  joke  of  the 
Greek  Pantheon.1  Our  own  God  is  not  pictured 
as  working,  at  least  only  six  days.  He  is  a  king, 
warrior,  legislator,  judge,  and  enjoys  praise  and 
song.2 

1  Compare  Gilbert  Murray,  Four  Stages  of  Greek  Religion,  pp. 
65,  66. 

2  To  be  sure,  as  Thorstein  Veblen  points  out,  as  the  early  preda- 
tory culture  gave  place  to  an  industrial  civilization,  the  conception 
of  God  as  craftsman  has  supplanted  the  old  notion  of  God  as  sover- 
eign; but  it  should  be  ad<ded  that  his  craftsman-like  activity  is 
limited  to  the  work  of  creation  and  is  of  the  spontaneous  creative 
kind.  (Compare  Thorstein  Veblen,  The  Instinct  of  Workmanship^ 
p.  255  ff.) 


124  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

Work  is  not  a  racial  habit,  and  it  is  unlikely 
that  the  whole  world  is  going  to  settle  down 
amiably  and  peaceably  to  industrial  labor,  as 
some  of  our  social  reconstructionists  would  im- 
agine. As  Professor  Ross  says,  "Our  ancestors, 
the  primitive  Germans,  passed  their  time  in 
drinking,  gaming,  and  brawling,  leaving  indus- 
try to  women  and  thralls."  "The  songs,  ballads, 
proverbs,  and  tales  that  well  up  from  the  heart 
of  the  folk  are  instinct  with  a  frank  delight  in 
meat  and  drink,  in  hues  and  sounds,  in  revel  and 
song,  in  love  and  war,  in  freedom  and  danger." x 

It  seems  thus  a  little  incongruous  in  the  light 
of  history  —  this  extravagant  claim  of  the  pro- 
letariat, sometimes  put  forth,  to  be  the  only 
people  —  this  plan  to, put  the  whole  world  to 
work  at  manual  labor.  It  shows  how  completely 
the  spirit  of  modern  industrialism  has  taken 
possession  of  our  minds,  how  tamely  we  have 
submitted  to  be  ruled  by  a  new  idea  without 
stopping  to  inquire  into  its  historical  and  psycho- 
logical justification.  The  now  rapid  weakening 
of  the  economic  interpretation  of  history  may  be 
the  beginning  of  a  saner  interpretation  of  life. 
Surely  if  human  ideals  or  human  habits  as  re- 
vealed in  history  count  for  anything,  Mr.  Lester 

1  Edward  A.  Ross,  Social  Control,  pp.  355,  336. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        125 

£\  Ward  was  wrong  when  he  described  the  soci- 
ety of  the  future  as  a  society  of  workers,  on  the 
ground  that  work  is  normal  function,  since  hap- 
piness is  found  in  the  exercise  of  normal  func- 
tion.1 But  he  was  certainly  right  in  saying  that 
happiness  is  found  in  the  exercise  of  normal 
function. 

It  would  seem,  therefore,  to  be  the  very  first 
step  in  planning  the  society  of  the  future  to  find 
out  what  the  normal  function  of  man  is  and 
plan  our  society  with  a  due  regard  to  the  mate- 
rials we  have  to  work  with.  We  must  find  out 
whether  man  is  by  nature  fitted  for  an  indus- 
trial society.  We  must  not  too  readily  take  it  for 
granted  that  an  industrial  organization  of  soci- 
ety is  inevitable.2  If  it  is  inevitable,  and  if  man 
is  not  by  nature  an  industrial  worker,  we  must 
inquire  how  rapidly  human  nature  can  be  made 
over  to  adapt  itself  to  an  industrial  order.  If  we 
assume  that  an  industrial  order  is  inevitable, 
and  that  industrial  work  is  drudgery,  and  that 
therefore  every  man  must  be  forced  to  do  this 
kind  of  work  for  a  certain  limited  number  of 

1  Compare  Lester  F.  Ward,  Applied  Sociology,  p.  336. 

2  Herbert  Spencer,  in  his  Autobiography,  says  that  our  modern 
age  has  so  associated  duty  and  labor  that  a  man  is  praised  in  pro- 
portion as  he  toils,  "but  the  whole  thing  is  a  superstition."  "Life  is 
not  for  work  —  but  work  is  for  life."  (Vol.  11,  p.  478.) 


126  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

hours  each  day,  and  then  be  set  free  to  do  as  he 
likes  the  remaining  hours  —  as  appears  to  be  the 
favorite  view  among  social  reformers  now  —  it  is 
necessary  to  inquire  whether  such  a  divided  life 
will  in  any  sense  be  a  rational  or  natural  life,  and 
to  inquire  also  what  the  man  will  do  in  the  hours 
of  leisure  thus  provided. 

Let  us  examine  somewhat  more  carefully  the 
position  of  labor  in  man's  instinctive  life.  Turn- 
ing back  to  our  list  of  instincts  we  find  that  after 
all  there  is  one  kind  of  work  which  is  natural  for 
man,  although  perhaps  the  word  "work,"  as  we 
understand  it  now,  does  not  accurately  express 
it.  There  is  one  kind  of  work,  however,  closely 
related  to  play,  under  which  man  does  not  fret 
nor  manifest  unrest.  It  is  creative  workmanship. 
It  is  typified  in  the  planning  and  making  of 
something  which  he  needs,  the  kind  of  labor  in 
which  he  himself  uses  what  he  makes  and  makes 
what  he  himself  wishes  to  use,  such  for  instance 
as  a  spear-head,  a  bow  and  arrow,  a  canoe,  a 
dwelling,  or  a  dress.  He  experiences  first  a  need 
of  it;  he  plans  and  patterns  it;  he  uses  and  enjoys 
it.  Later,  as  the  social  impulses  develop,  he  plans 
and  fashions  something  as  a  work  of  art  which 
shall  win  praise  and  approval  because  of  its 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        127 

beauty,  or  strengthen  the  bonds  of  sympathy 
with  his  fellows.  Man  is  by  nature  a  craftsman, 
but  not  a  toiler.  In  such  craftsman-like  work  he 
will  put  forth  every  power  of  mind  and  body, 
deriving  therefrom  the  keenest  pleasure  and 
making  no  demands  for  higher  wages  or  shorter 
hours.  When  we  see  children  working  un- 
prompted and  with  might  and  main  at  some  self- 
planned  enterprise  and  gaining  at  the  same  time 
new  vigor  and  new  ability,  but  on  the  other 
hand  wilting  quickly  under  some  lesser  task  im- 
posed by  parents,  we  speak  of  the  perversity  of 
child  nature;  but  there  is  no  perversity  about  it, 
and  there  is  no  perversity  either  in  the  unrest 
which  follows  enforced  regular  and  uninteresting 
industrial  labor.  The  key  to  the  situation  in  both 
cases  is  found  in  racial  history  and  habit. 

Closely  related  to  this  instinct  of  workman- 
ship there  is  a  group  of  impulses  such  as  those  of 
thought,  mental  activity,  and  the  creative  and 
inventive  impulse.  It  is  largely  to  these  that  in 
our  modern  times  are  due  the  comforts,  conven- 
iences, and  luxuries  which  to  many  minds  stand 
for  civilization,  and  which  in  our  reconstructed 
society  of  the  future  are  always  taken  for 
granted.  The  instinct  to  explore,  devise,  invent, 
discover,  and  thereby  to  gain  for  one's  self  com- 


128  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

fort  or  fame  or  fortune  or  social  approval,  has 
sent  men  to  every  part  of  the  world,  exploiting 
the  resources  of  nature,  uncovering  stores  of 
mineral  and  coal,  tunneling  mountains,  draining 
marshes,  finding  new  routes  of  trade,  opening 
new  markets,  building  new  roads,  projecting 
new  commercial  enterprises,  inventing  new  proc- 
esses and  new  machines,  and  devising  and  per- 
fecting every  conceivable  device  for  locomotion 
and  transportation. 

It  is  in  this^kind  of  activity  that  man  finds  his 
real  life.  This  initiative,  this  "exercise  of  gen- 
ius," this  foresight  and  daring,  this  instinctive 
effort  to  win  fame  and  fortune,  this  delight  in 
the  testing  and  spanning  of  our  powers  —  is  it 
work  or  play?,  Anyway,  it  is  life.  In  this  essen- 
tially human  activity  a  man  is  happy  because  he 
lives.  Incidentally  he  wins  fame,  and  —  perhaps 
unhappily  —  he  wins  fortune,  and  then  the  trou- 
ble begins.  He  uses  his  fortune,  which  now  we 
call  capital,  sometimes  well  and  sometimes  ill  — 
very  commonly  he  uses  it  as  he  used  his  mental 
and  physical  faculties,  to  increase  his  power  over 
men,  and  when  this  power  has  greatly  increased, 
we  justly  fear  his  over-lordship,  and  we  turn  to 
the  State  to  save  us  from  this  new  tyranny, 
planning   the   socialistic   State  to  equalize   the 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        129 

social  status.  But  with  this  new  organization 
of  society  the  man  becomes  a  toiler,  subject  to 
the  state  officials,  instead  of  a  creative  genius. 
This  is  the  great  dilemma  in  modern  social 
reconstruction. 

In  this  instinctive  workmanship  we  see  man 
at  his  best.  We  see  him  exercising  his  normal 
function.  It  is  not  work  as  we  commonly  under- 
stand work,  nor  is  it  play,1  but  it  partakes  of 
both  and  is  best  described  as  normal  function. 
In  activities  of  this  kind  the  human  machine  is 
at  its  best.2  The  attention,  fixed  upon  the  de- 
sired and  idealized  end,  is  self-developing.  It  is 
maintained  by  interest  and  not  by  sheer  dead- 
lift  of  will.  The  mind  works  smoothly  and  easily 
and  with  a  minimum  of  friction  and  irritation. 
There  is  a  maximum  of  physical  and  mental  ac- 
tivity, but  a  minimum  of  physical  and  mental 
strain.  Although  great  physical  activity  may  be 

1  On  the  fundamental  distinction  between  work  and  play,  com- 
pare the  author's  Psychology  of  Relaxation,  chap,  n,  "The  Psy- 
chology of  Play." 

2  "To  be  mentally  active,  to  do  something,  is  instinctively  satis- 
fying. Much  of  invention  springs  costless  from  a  mind  thinking  for 
the  sheer  joy  of  it.  Organization,  plans  in  industry,  schemes  for 
market  extension,  visions  of  ways  to  power,  all  agitate  neurones  in 
the  brain  ready  and  anxious  to  give  issue  in  thought.  A  duty  of 
the  environment  is  not  only  to  allow,  but  to  encourage,  states  in 
which  meditation  naturally  occurs."  (Carleton  H.  Parker,  op.  cit.t 
p.  223.) 


i3o  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

present,  it  is  unconscious  and  willing.  This  kind 
of  work  —  if  work  we  wish  to  call  it  —  is  not 
toil  nor  drudgery.  It  is  better  described  as 
thought  and  art. 

Aristotle,  whose  strange,  uncanny  reason 
seemed  to  lead  him  right  so  often,  discusses  this 
very  subject.  He,  too,  makes  happiness  consist 
in  the  exercise  of  normal  function;  but  he  finds 
this  in  thought  and  art,  not  in  work,  for  thought 
and  art  are  the  highest  forms  of  human  activity, 
and  human  welfare  consists  in  the  activity  of  our 
highest  powers.  "Two  things,"  says  Clive  Bell, 
"above  all  give  value  to  a  civilization,  thought 
and  art." 

How  different  is  the  work  of  the  modern  indus- 
trial laborer! 

A  large  part  of  modern  employment  [says  a  recent 
writer]  is  an  evident  maladjustment  to  the  worker. 
Due  to  technicalities  and  abnormalities  of  land-own- 
ership or  transportation  or  profits,  the  factory  worker 
too  often  suffers  a  wearing  outrage  of  instincts  by 
being  confined  in  a  species  of  artificial  inferno.  The 
division  of  labor  has  committed  the  toiler  to  a  monot- 
ony of  task  which  is  absolutely  without  warrant  in 
his  psychological  economy;  for  a  natural  environ- 
ment affords  a  range  of  experiences  and  draws  upon 
all  parts  of  the  organism  rather  than  overtaxes  a  nerve 
center  or  set  of  muscles.  The  forced  production  repre- 
sented by  slave  labor  and  the  difficulty  of  getting  peo- 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        131 

pie  to  work  with  spirit  suggest  that  there  has  been 
historically  and  is  to-day  an  almost  complete  neglect 
of  the  organization  of  industry  with  reference  to 
natural  incentives.  People  cannot  be  kept  from  work- 
ing, provided  employment  corresponds  to  nervous 
organization.  Need  there  be  so  complete  a  divorce  be- 
tween spontaneity,  preference,  and  play,  and  the  job? 
It  might  seem  difficult  to  introduce  into  a  system  of 
production  a  distinct  recognition  of  the  natural  ten- 
dencies of  experimentation,  curiosity,  sociability, 
leadership,  and  the  like,  but  only  by  more  fully  con- 
forming to  natural  interests  may  drudging  labor  be 
transformed  into  joyful  effort.1 

The  work  of  the  modern  industrial  laborer  is, 
then,  a  species  of  drudgery  in  unhappy  contrast 
with  the  spontaneous  creative  work  which  be- 
longs to  man's  original  nature.  We  should  al- 
most take  it  for  granted,  therefore,  that  if  we  are 
to  have  radical  social  and  industrial  reforms,  the 
very  first  step  would  be  to  redeem  the  life  of  the 
laborer  from  that  kind  of  work  which  is  mere 
toil. 

Since  the  creative  impulse  is  so  fundamental 
in  human  nature,  and  since  it  has  given  us  pre- 
cisely those  things  which  we  prize  so  highly  in 
our  modern  world,  the  question  at  once  arises 
what  place  it  is  to  have  in  our  society  of  the  fu- 

1  Arland  D.  Weeks,  The  Psychology  of  Citizenship,  pp.  73,  74. 


132  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

ture.  We  should  assume  that  it  would  have  a 
very  high  place.  The  mind  leaps  forward  at  once 
to  an  idealized  picture  of  society  in  which  all 
work  is  to  be  of  the  spontaneous  creative  kind  — 
the  labor  of  the  craftsman.  Would  it  be  possible 
to  reorganize  our  whole  industrial  system  so  that 
toil  and  drudgery  should  disappear,  and  in  place 
should  come  the  spontaneous  activity  of  the 
craftsman? 

But  our  current  social-reconstruction  schemes 
do  not  propose  any  such  ideal  order  as  this.  For 
the  most  part  what  they  picture  is  merely  an 
intensification  of  our  present  industrial  order. 
Human  wants  are  not  to  decrease,  but  presuma- 
bly ever  to  increase.  There  is  to  be  still  more 
wealth  and  constantly  increasing  production,  so 
that  every  want  may  be  satisfied;  indeed,  in- 
creased production  is  the  demand  we  hear  on 
every  side,  to  the  end,  we  are  told,  of  reducing 
the  cost  of  living.  Let  us  have  an  end  of  strikes, 
let  us  speed  up  production,  let  us  try  to  satisfy 
the  wants  of  the  world.  And  this  is  not  merely  a 
temporary  situation  resulting  from  the  war.  It  is 
inherent  in  our  social  philosophy.  Our  demands 
are  constantly  increasing.  We  want  better  food 
and  more  of  it.  We  want  better  clothes,  better 
houses,   more   comforts,   conveniences,   amuse- 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK'       133 

ments,  and  luxuries  every  year.  "Even  to-day," 
as  Mr.  Walter  Weyl  says,  "we  are  developing 
new  types  of  destitutes  —  the  automobileless, 
the  yachtless,  the  Newport-cottageless.  The 
subtlest  luxuries  become  necessities  and  their 
loss  is  bitterly  resented.  The  discontent  of  to-day 
reaches  very  high  in  the  social  scale."  1 

These  many  wants  must  be  supplied  somehow. 
Since  now  our  population  is  rapidly  increasing 
and  the  demands  of  all  likewise  growing,  there  is 
nothing  for  it  but  constantly  increasing  produc- 
tion and  a  constant  enlargement  of  the  indus- 
trial side  of  our  life.  We  see,  therefore,  in  the 
years  to  come  more  and  more  thousands  or  mil- 
lions of  our  people  in  the  coal-mines,  in  the 
smelters,  in  the  iron  and  steel  works,  at  the 
blast  furnaces,  in  the  factories,  in  the  work- 
shops, in  the  repair-shops,  at  the  looms,  in  the 
transportation  systems,  at  the  distribution  cen- 
ters, in  the  stores,  at  the  counters,  at  the  desks,  at 
the  typewriters,  at  the  telegraph  keys,  in  the  tele- 
phone exchanges,  at  the  press  and  the  type-set- 
ting machines.  If  it  is  said  that  this  colossal  bur- 
den of  industrial  labor  is  to  be  lightened  by  the 
invention  of  new  labor-saving  machinery  and  by 
the  participation  of  all  the  people  in  the  work, 
1  The  New  Democracy,  p.  246. 


;i34  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

the  reply  is  that  these  will  not  redeem  the  world 
from  its  self-imposed  industrial  labor,  for  this 
army  of  laborers  can  be  only  slightly  reduced  in 
this  way.  The  machinery  itself  has  to  be  made 
and  the  materials  for  it  dug  from  the  earth  or 
hewn  from  the  forest,  and  it  has  to  be  installed 
and  repaired.  Some  one  has  to  do  this;  and  if  we 
think  that  the  burden  of  this  toil  will  be  light- 
ened by  the  fact  that  all  will  take  part  in  it,  we 
must  reflect  that  the  present  great  army  of  brain- 
workers  cannot  be  diverted  to  do  this  manual 
work,  for  under  whatever  system  the  work  is 
done,  whether  by  individual  enterprise  or  state 
ownership  or  Guild  Socialism,  there  must  be 
superintendents,  and  directors,  and  managers, 
and  overseers,  and  foremen,  and  supervisors, 
and  inspectors,  and  surveyors,  and  bookkeepers, 
and  accountants,  and  collectors,  and  bankers, 
and  advertisers,  and  buyers,  and  sellers,  and  so 
on  through  the  long  list  —  a  great  army  of 
brain-workers,  then  as  now.  When  we  think  of 
the  ever-increasing  demands  of  our  modern  life 
for  an  immensity  of  things  which  we  want  to  use 
and  enjoy,  and  when  we  realize  the  correspond- 
ing magnitude  of  our  industrial  life  in  the  years 
to  come,  and  think  of  the  experts  necessary  to 
organize  and  conduct  this  great  industrial  ma- 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        135 

chine,  we  can  understand  how  idle  is  the  dream 
that  any  of  our  proposed  social  revolutions  will 
redeem  the  life  of  the  toiler  by  substituting 
craftsmanship  or  creative  work  for  mere  toil. 

It  appears,  therefore,  that  in  the  society  of  the 
future,  whatever  system  of  social  organization 
we  may  have,  there  is  to  be  no  relief  from  the 
burden  of  industrial  life.  The  work  is  to  be  of  the 
same  kind  and  in  ever-increasing  amounts,  and 
there  are  no  plans  in  sight  for  humanizing  this 
labor.  The  problems  which  seem  to  concern  us 
are  how  to  increase  production  and  how  to  get 
our  goods  and  our  wealth  more  fairly  distrib- 
uted. The  more  important  problem  of  adapting 
our  industrial  system  to  the  mental  make-up  of 
the  industrial  worker  seems  to  have  had  little 
attention.  In  our  present  system  this  adaptation 
is  lacking.  In  the  society  of  the  future  it  ought  to 
be  attained.  As  Professor  Weeks  says,  learning 
to  drive  a  nail  is  a  unique  experience  in  a  per- 
son's life,  but  continuing  to  drive  nails  all  day  is 
deadening.  "How  strange  it  is  that  the  passing 
years  sap  the  romance  of  life  as  well  as  the 
beauty,  and  how  the  new  inventions  —  labor- 
saving  devices,  they  call  them,  and  multipliers 
of  wealth  —  have  taken  the  color,  the  creative 
zest,  and  the  novelty  out  of  work,  and  left  it  a 


136  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

husk,  a  dry,  mechanical  grind,  a  cut-and-dried 
function  of  physical  drudgery  without  a  soul.,,  1 

It  is  this  situation,  no  doubt,  which  is  in  part 
responsible  for  the  labor  troubles  at  the  present 
time.  The  worker  has  been  dehumanized  by  the 
new  and  unnatural  system  of  industry  which 
the  discovery  of  iron  and  coal,  together  with  the 
industrial  revolution,  have  brought  about,  a 
system  which  has  no  sanction  in  the  original 
nature  of  man. 

One  cannot  but  wonder  how  much  of  the  un- 
rest of  the  day  and  the  friction  between  capital 
and  labor  is  due  merely  to  a  kind  of  irritability 
which  is  the  result  of  a  life  not  according  to  na- 
ture. Our  conditions  of  living  involve  too  much 
strain  and  stress  and  tension.  To  hold  one's  self 
down  to  an  uninteresting  task  by  means  of  sus- 
tained voluntary  attention  results  in  rapid 
fatigue  of  brain  tracts  developed  only  late  in 
human  history  and  therefore  especially  subject 
to  fatigue.  This  unnatural  sustained  effort  is 
present  in  all  the  various  kinds  of  industrial 
work  where  there  is  no  immediate  interest  in  the 
finished  product,  where  it  is  necessary  to  hold 
one's  self  down  to  mere  work  for  a  certain  num- 
ber of  hours  each  day.  It  is  present  in  many 

1  William  J.  Fielding,  in  The  Nation,  November  8,  1919. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        137 

kinds  of  clerical  and  office  work,  and  in  routine 
tasks  of  all  kinds.  The  resulting  fatigue  is  both 
physical  and  mental.  Release  from  it  is  sought 
again  in  unnatural  ways,  sometimes  in  narcotics 
or  stimulants,  such  as  alcohol,  tobacco,  narcotic 
drugs,  tea,  coffee,  sugar;  sometimes  in  amuse- 
ments such  as  dancing,  moving  pictures,  and 
vaudeville  shows  requiring  no  exercise  of  volun- 
tary attention;  sometimes  in  various  forms  of 
social  outbreak  such  as  strikes,  anti-social  agita- 
tions, revolutions  against  existing  morality  and 
the  existing  social  order;  sometimes  merely  in 
reading  journals  or  magazines  of  revolt.  There 
is  too  much  confinement  about  our  life.  The 
young  are  confined  in  schoolrooms,  even  be- 
tween seats  and  desks;  the  older  are  confined  in 
the  indoor  life  of  our  modern  home,  or  in  offices, 
stores,  workshops,  or  factories.  Our  fathers  and 
forefathers  back  for  many  thousands  of  years 
lived  a  more  open  life,  a  more  out-of-door  life,  a 
more  independent  life,  a  more  irregular  life. 

It  is  not  discipline  that  we  object  to.  Mankind 
has  lived  under  the  severest  social  discipline  for 
long  centuries.  It  is  rather  confinement,  physical 
and  mental  confinement,  that  causes  the  trouble. 
We  long  for  "the  open  road."  But  psychologi- 
cally considered  the  open  road  is  a  life  in  which 


138  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

our  instinctive  interests  have  free  expression. 
Specifically  it  is  often  a  life  in  which  we  find 
relief  from  the  dead-lift  of  will  and  constant  sus- 
tained attention  to  an  uninteresting  task.  In 
practice  relief  would  be  found  in  the  life  of  the 
craftsman,  in  some  kind  of  work  crowned  with 
success  and  social  approval. 

To  jump  to  the  conclusion  that  we  in  America 
are  all  living  this  cramped  mental  and  physical 
life  would  be  the  greatest  of  mistakes.  We  shall 
see  below  to  what  a  wonderful  extent  we  in 
America  are  actually  living  the  life  of  the  open 
road.  I  am  only  showing  here  that  the  industrial 
life,  which  is  growing  more  and  more  intense 
throughout  the  world,  issues  in  a  state  of  social 
irritability  due  not  at  all  to  our  social  and  polit- 
ical institutions,  not  at  all  to  any  cramping 
moral  conventions,  but  to  our  industrial  condi- 
tions and  our  manner  of  daily  living. 

Professor  Thorstein  Veblen,  in  his  book  "The 
Instinct  of  Workmanship,"  has  discussed  in  his 
engaging  manner  the  relation  of  this  instinct  to 
our  modern  industrial  system.1  Modern  business 

1  Professor  Veblen's  interest  in  the  question  as  it  is  treated  in 
this  book  is  apparently  more  in  its  religious  and  philosophical  as- 
pects than  in  its  relation  to  our  present  social  problems. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        139 

enterprise,  he  shows,  has  worked  disparagingly 
upon  the  instinct  of  workmanship.  In  the  era  of 
craftsmanship 

industry  is  conceived  in  the  terms  of  the  skill,  initia- 
tive, and  application  of  the  trained  individual,  and 
human  relations  outside  of  the  workshop  tend  also  by 
force  of  habit  to  be  conceived  in  similar  terms  of  self- 
sufficient  individuals,  each  working  out  his  own  ends 
in  severalty.  The  position  of  the  craftsman  in  the 
economy  of  that  time  is  peculiarly  suited  to  induce  a 
conception  of  the  individual  workman  as  a  creative 
agent,  standing  on  his  own  bottom,  and  as  an  ulti- 
mate, irreducible  factor  in  the  community's  make-up. 
.  .  .  With  his  slight  outfit  of  tools  he  is  ready  and 
competent  of  his  own  motion  to  do  the  work  that  lies 
before  him,  and  he  asks  nothing  but  an  even  chance 
to  do  what  he  is  fit  to  do.  .  .  .  The  man  who  does 
things,  who  is  creatively  occupied  with  fashioning 
things  for  use,  is  the  central  fact  in  the  scheme  of 
things  under  the  handicraft  system.1 

In  our  modern  industrial  age  all  this  is 
changed.  In  this  era  of  the  factory  system,  of 
large-scale  machine  industry,  pecuniary  benefit 
is  the  end  in  view.  The  price  era  has  come,  the 
era  of  "bargaining  and  of  competitive  principles 
in  business ";  price,  profits,  and  gain  are  in  the 
mind.  Efficiency  is  understood  as  that  which 
promotes  profits,  not  that  which  produces  per- 
fect work  as  the  result  of  perfect  workmanship. 

1  Pages  234,  235.    , 


Ho  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

"  Workmanship  comes  to  be  confused  with 
salesmanship."  "To  do  well"  no  longer  means 
to  execute  some  finished  and  perfect  piece  of 
work  with  one's  own  hands,  but  to  be  successful 
in  business  enterprise.1 

So  it  appears  that  in  our  modern  industrial 
system  the  whole  motive  of  work  is  changed. 
That  which  was  formerly  interesting  in  itself,  be- 
cause of  its  direct  relation  to  a  finished  and  in- 
teresting product,  is  now  of  no  interest  in  itself 
and  has  slight  reference  to  any  finished  product. 
It  is  done  for  a  price  and  for  profit. 

Thus  it  comes  about  that  there  are  dishar- 
monies and  maladjustments  in  our  modern  in- 
dustrial system.  In  the  writings  of  the  day  these 
disharmonies  are  attributed  to  the  insufficient 
wages,  the  long  hours,  and  the  unsanitary  condi- 
tions of  the  laborer.  But  in  the  era  of  crafts- 
manship the  wages  were  far  lower,  the  hours  far 
longer,  and  the  conditions  of  living  worse.  Hap- 
piness is  not  found  in  wages  nor  in  short  hours, 
but  in  the  fulfillment  of  function.  "The  joy  of 
the  workman  is  in  the  end,  and  that  enlivens  the 
act.  Not  work  but  drudgery  kills."  2  The  in- 
stinct of  workmanship  demands  that  the  COm- 
^l  Thorstein  Veblen,  op.  cit.>  p.  349. 
8  William  A.  McKeever,  Man  and  the  Nao  Democracy,  p.  67. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        141 

pleted  product,  as  a  definite,  single  object  of  art 
or  craft,  should  be  pictured  in  the  mind  of  the 
workman  and  it  should  be  pictured  as  the  result 
of  his  personal  and  individual  effort  bringing 
him  social  applause. 

This  does  not,  however,  mean  that  this  in- 
stinct of  workmanship  has  no  social  application, 
but  it  can  be  socialized  only  within  very  narrow 
limits  or  when  the  end  to  be  attained  is  of  im- 
mediate vital  interest  to  the  group.  Thus  the  in- 
dividual may  take  pride  in  the  craftsman-like 
product  of  his  family  or  his  guild  or  his  narrow 
social  group.  It  could  be  extended  to  a  large  in- 
dustrial group  only  provided  there  were  a  very 
lively  rivalry  with  some  other  group  making  the 
same  product.  Here  the  instincts  of  emulation 
and  rivalry  come  in  to  lessen  the  disharmonies  of 
work  which  approaches  the  form  of  drudgery.  It 
is  conceivable,  for  instance,  that  railroad  men 
might  willingly  and  cheerfully  perform  their  du- 
ties if  only  there  were  another  rival  railroad  in 
visible  competition  with  theirs.  But  let  the  State 
own  all  the  railroads,  and  it  is  difficult  to  con- 
ceive of  any  psychological  motives  which  shall 
redeem  the  work  from  drudgery.  Even  with 
6tate-owned  railroads,  however,  it  is  possible  that 
men  will  work  willingly  and  loyally  in  times  of 


i42  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

national  peril,  especially  if  the  danger  be  immi- 
nent. This  was  illustrated  in  our  late  war,  when 
in  a  thousand  factories  men  and  women  bent 
to  the  work  of  toil  with  zest  and  fervor. 

It  becomes,  of  course,  an  interesting  question 
to  what  extent  our  great  typical  industries  could 
be  socialized  and  still  give  expression  to  the  in- 
stinct of  workmanship.  This  seems  to  be  the 
vague  hope  in  such  movements  as  Guild  Social- 
ism and  Syndicalism,  so  far  as  these  have  any 
positive  plan  and  are  not  mere  negative  move- 
ments destructive  of  our  present  social  values. 
This  question  I  shall  consider  presently,  but 
thus  far  it  appears  that  industries  cannot  be 
socialized  beyond  very  narrow  groups  without 
the  loss  of  interest  in  the  industrial  product,  ex- 
cept upon  great  epochal  occasions,  such  as  war, 
or  in  situations  where  there  are  vivid  pictures 
of  emulation  and  rivalry. 

It  would  appear,  then,  that,  if  disharmonies 
are  to  be  avoided,  work  must  be  natural;  it  must 
proceed  from  the  instinct  of  workmanship.  Or 
if  it  is  in  the  form  of  drudgery,  it  must  be  vital- 
ized by  loyalty,  emulation,  or  love.1 

1  This  appeal  to  emulation,  loyalty,  or  love  is  quite  different,  of 
course,  from  the  capitalizing  of  these  sentiments  referred  to  above, 
where  the  end  in  view  is  merely  pecuniary  gain  or  the  increase 
of  efficiency. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        143 

Thus  far  it  appears  that  man's  instinctive 
needs  do  not  find  expression  in  the  work  of  the 
modern  industrial  laborer.  There  is  maladjust- 
ment on  every  side,  and  it  further  appears  that 
in  the  industry  of  the  future  our  present  system 
is  to  continue  much  as  it  is  now.  None  of  the  re- 
construction movements,  from  the  mildest  the- 
ory of  Cooperation  or  Profit-Sharing  to  the  most 
extreme  Anarchism,  really  propose  any  serious 
modification  of  the  essential  nature  of  modern 
industrial  work.  The  only  difference  is  in  organ- 
ization and  management.  There  is  to  be  a  dif- 
ferent social  order,  but  not  a  different  industrial 
order,  nor  any  different  kind  of  work. 

What  plans,  then,  do  the  reconstruction  move- 
ments offer  for  the  relief  of  the  drudgery  of  in- 
dustrial labor?  Only  these  —  the  increase  of 
wages,  decrease  of  hours,  and  participation  in 
profits  or  in  management  or  collective  owner- 
ship and  operation.  No  hope  is  held  out  that  the 
work  itself  will  be  essentially  different.  It  is  to 
be  made  endurable  or  attractive  in  the  above 
ways.  Whether  it  be  by  extreme  Communism, 
or  the  more  moderate  Collectivism,  or  the  still 
more  moderate  Agrarian  Socialism,  or  merely  by 
Cooperation  or  Social  Democracy,  we  never  get 
much  beyond  the  conception  of  the  more  equi- 


144  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

table  participation  of  the  worker  in  the  results 
of  his  work.  He  is  to  have  more  of  the  profits  or 
he  is  to  have  more  of  the  things  produced.  He 
is,  perhaps,  to  be  his  own  boss  and  manager  and 
in  this  way  see  to  it  that  he  gets  his  full  share. 
And  this  is  the  reason  that  he  is  to  be  collec- 
tively his  own  boss  and  manager,  perhaps  also 
the  owner;  not  to  begin  the  production  of  ob- 
jects of  worth  and  beauty,  not  to  undertake  the 
manufacture  of  goods  whose  workmanship  one 
might  be  proud  of,  but  bluntly  and  solely  *  to 
see  to  it  that  each  laborer  and  each  participant 
gets  his  full  and  righteous  share  of  the  profits  or 
the  goods,  to  the  end,  indeed,  that  all  shall  at- 
tain to  an  adequate  scale  of  living  with  comforts 
and  luxuries  and  leisure  and  opportunity.  And 
opportunity  is  always  interpreted  to  mean,  not 
opportunity  to  make  one's  work  the  expression 
of  an  instinctive  love  of  beauty  and  art  and 
workmanship,  but  opportunity  for  extraneous 
things,  after  the  work  of  the  day  is  done  —  op- 
portunity for  acquiring  information,  for  culture, 
for  recreation  and  amusement,  for  self-develop- 
ment. In  other  words,  there  is  scarcely  any  at- 
tempt in  these  movements  to  escape  from  the 

1  There  is,  however,  present  also  the  laudable  desire  to  be  the 
master  of  one's  own  destiny.  This  I  have  discussed  below,  p.  147. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        145 

philosophy  of  the  pecuniary  culture  of  the  times. 
We  hear  of  no  ethical  objections  to  the  ideals 
which  govern  the  business  superman  of  the  day 
—  namely,  to  make  money  and  enjoy  the  fruits 
thereof  —  but  only  to  the  distribution  of  the 
money  and  the  fruits.  There  is  still  to  be  a  pe- 
cuniary culture,  only  collective  society  is  to  be 
the  superman.  There  is  no  thought,  apparently, 
of  organizing  society  upon  a  psychological  basis 
such  as  that  proposed  by  William  Morris: 

When  will  they  see  to  this  and  help  to  make  men 
of  us  all  by  insisting  upon  this  most  weighty  piece  of 
manners;  so  that  we  may  adorn  life  with  the  pleasure 
of  cheerfully  buying  goods  at  their  due  price;  with  the 
pleasure  of  selling  goods  that  we  could  be  proud  of 
both  for  fair  price  and  fair  workmanship;  with  the 
pleasure  of  working  soundly  and  without  haste  at 
making  goods  that  we  could  be  proud  of?  —  much  the 
greatest  pleasure  of  the  three  is  the  last,  such  a  pleas- 
ure as,  I  think,  the  world  has  none  like  it.1 

To  what  extent  will  social  unrest  be  quieted 
by  the  increase  of  wages?  There  is  one  thing  now 
upon  which  all  parties  agree;  namely,  that  the 
wage  of  the  laborer  and  of  all  men  and  women 
working  for  wages  or  salary  should  be  adjusted 
to  the  point  at  which  they  shall  receive  their  just 
share  of  the  profits  of  industry.  The  social  con- 

1  William  Morris,  Hopes  and  Fears  for  Jrl,  p.  30. 


146  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

science  has  long  since  been  awakened  in  this 
matter;  and  while  such  adjustments  necessarily 
take  a  little  time,  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt 
that  the  rightful  share  of  the  wage-earner  may 
be  determined  and  proportioned,  and  there  is 
also  no  reason  to  doubt  that  the  attitude  of 
mind  of  the  employer  as  well  as  the  laborer  is 
becoming  more  and  more  favorable  to  this 
change.1  But  it  is  equally  certain  that  a  mere  in- 
crease of  wages  will  never  redeem  the  evils  of  the 
industrial  system.  Unrest  and  disharmonies  do 
not  disappear  with  the  increase  of  wages,  and 
this  would  be  particularly  true  in  a  social  sys- 
tem where  there  were  no  opportunities  for  the 
individual  investment  of  wages  and  savings  for 
the  winning  of  personal  fame  and  fortune.  It 
may  well  be  that  the  era  of  great  fortunes,  of 
swollen  fortunes,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing  in  our 
present  sense  of  the  word  fortune,  is  drawing  to 
an  end.  Society  will  have  something  to  say  about 
that.  But  no  society  based  on  psychological 
laws  —  that  is,  no  progressive  society  —  can 
exist  in  which  there  is  not  an  opportunity  and 
justifiable  hope  in  the  breast  of  each  individual 

1  In  recent  months  this  "adjustment"  has  taken  place  so  rap- 
idly that  in  many  trades  hand  workers,  particularly  mechanics, 
have  perhaps  already  more  than  reached  this  limit,  the  increase  of 
wages  being  merely  added  to  the  selling  price  of  the  product.  • 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        147 

to  win  for  himself  some  kind  of  fame  or  fortune. 

In  a  decadent  society  the  workman  might 
submit  to  the  drudgery  of  industrial  labor  for 
the  sake  of  wages,  but  in  a  vital  age  like  the 
present  this  is  very  questionable.  Wages  must  be 
a  means  to  some  glowing  ideal,  not  a  mere  means 
to  an  adequate  scale  of  living.  To  save,  to  invest 
one's  savings  with  the  hope  of  gaining  more,  to 
get  ahead  enough  to  buy  a  home  for  one's  self 
and  one's  mate,  to  accumulate  enough  to  start 
out  in  business  for  one's  self,  to  be  one's  own 
boss,  to  save  and  invest  one's  savings  in  some 
wholly  new  enterprise  or  undertaking  which  one 
has  one's  self  planned,  to  get  enough  money  or 
capital  to  carry  out  some  pet  scheme  or  idea  — 
all  this  is  human,  instinctive,  and  interesting.  It 
is  life.  But  your  beehive-of-happy-workers  the- 
ory of  society,  in  which  all  are  happy  because 
all  are  at  work  and  have  hours  of  leisure  and 
an  adequate  scale  of  comforts  and  luxuries,  has 
scant  foundation  in  psychology. 

One  of  the  fundamental  needs  of  the  human 
mind  is  the  need  for  personal  achievement *  and 
individual  initiative.  A  man  wants  to  do  and 
dare,  to  risk  something  for  the  sake  of  great  per- 

1  Compare  the  article  on  "The  Right  to  Achieve,"  by  Franklin 
H.  Giddings,  Unpartizan  Review,  October-December,  19 19. 


148  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

sonal  gain.  Thus  the  question  of  the  relative 
advantages  of  Socialism,  Communism,  and  Indi- 
vidualism are  seen  in  a  new  light,  and  must  be 
judged  and  decided  on  psychological  grounds, 
not  on  social  grounds  alone.  It  is  no  longer  a 
question  as  to  whether  any  one  of  these  forms  of 
society  is  better,  judged  on  theoretical  grounds, 
to  the  end  of  conducing  to  economic  production 
or  to  social  welfare,  where  social  welfare  is  inter- 
preted in  economic  terms.  It  is  rather  a  prag- 
matic question  of  which  of  these  social  plans  will 
work;  that  is,  with  the  human  material  that  we 
have  in  hand.  In  the  case  of  bees  and  ants,  com- 
munism works,  but  the  price  is  stagnation.  If  the 
idea  of  progress  is  eliminated  and  the  mere  per- 
petuation of  the  given  species  is  the  end,  some 
such  form  of  social  organization  would  be  ideal. 
But  your  twentieth-century  man  is  built  on 
another  plan.  He  does  not  care  to  sink  himself  in 
the  community.  He  wants  to  achieve.  The  tre- 
mendous virility  of  the  man  of  to-day,  his  power- 
ful self-assertiveness,  restlessness  and  aggres- 
siveness, his  will  to  live,  his  will  to  power,  make 
this  century  the  worst  possible  time  to  put  in 
practice  any  socialistic  or  communistic  plan.  A 
certain  degree  of  socialization  of  some  of  our 
great  industries  or  natural  monopolies  becomes 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        149 

necessary  by  the  conditions  of  our  modern  IrTe, 
but  we  shall  probably  be  disappointed  if  we  hope 
that  this  will  allay  unrest.  The  more  this  simple 
and  justifiable  form  of  Socialism  is  extended  so 
that  the  community  does  more  and  more  things 
which  the  individual  wants  to  do,  the  greater 
will  be  the  unrest  if  vitality  remains,  and  stagna- 
tion if  it  does  not.  We  are  so  obsessed  with  the 
economic  aspects  of  things  that  to  many  people 
the  case  for  Socialism  would  seem  to  be  proved  if 
it  could  be  shown  that  the  community  could  do 
things  more  economically,  more  cheaply,  than 
the  individual,  with  less  waste.  But  all  this  is 
changed  when  we  realize  that  the  best  society  is 
one  which  best  furnishes  a  field  for  human  ac- 
tivities, not  one  which  is  the'most  economical, 
which  best  eliminates  waste.  That  the  time  is 
coming  when  waste  must  be  prevented,  when 
conservation  of  all  natural  resources  must  be 
practiced,  if  great  populations  are  to  be  sup- 
ported, may  well  be  true.  To  this  end  conserva- 
tion seems  to  be  more  promising  than  rad- 
ical changes  in  our  social  order.  Perhaps  we  too 
readily  take  for  granted  the  wholly  unwarranted 
supposition  that  our  own  expansive  and  materi- 
alistic civilization  is  the  only  one  to  be  thought 
of.  There  are  other  ways  out  of  the  dilemma, 


ISO  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

other  paths  to  take  than  that  of  the  eternal  re- 
lease of  new  desires  and  the  ever-increasing  hope- 
less attempt  to  satisfy  them. 

But  now  it  may  be  said  that  it  is  altogether  a 
narrow  view  of  the  reconstruction  movements  of 
the  day  to  represent  them  as  limited  to  the  eco- 
nomic view  of  life.  They,  too,  recognize  the  need 
of  providing  a  field  for  human  activities  and  for 
giving  expression  to  human  instincts.  To  this 
end  the  unrest  of  the  present  is  to  be  relieved, 
not  merely  by  the  increase  of  wages,  but  also  by 
means  of  two  other  plans:  first,  to  provide  more 
hours  of  leisure  in  which  there  shall  be  opportu- 
nity for  the  expression  of  all  legitimate  human  in- 
terests, even  the  instinct  of  workmanship;  and 
second,  so  to  reorganize  our  industries  that  the 
workman  himself  shall  have  an  active  participa- 
tion in,  or  actual  management  or  ownership  of, 
the  industry  with  which  he  is  connected. 

As  regards  the  second  of  these  proposals,  all 
the  plans  for  Profit-Sharing,  Cooperation,  Collec- 
tive Management,  and  even  Collective  Owner- 
ship, would  seem  to  offer  attractive  means  of 
escape  from  the  deadening  situation  of  the  pres- 
ent industrial  worker.  Many  experiments  in  the 
democratization  of  the  means  of  production  are 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        151 

now  in  progress,  and  for  the  most  part  with  the 
very  happiest  results.  In  some  of  our  large  in- 
dustries the  problem  of  capital  and  labor  seems 
almost  to  have  been  solved  in  this  way.  In  some 
companies  even  the  unionizing  of  the  workmen 
has  been  found  to  be  uncalled  for  and  unneces- 
sary, so  satisfactory  are  the  relations  which  have 
been  established  between  owners  and  laborers. 
It  is  the  vicious  theory  of  the  class  war  which  has 
scattered  far  and  wide  the  wholly  gratuitous 
belief  that  there  is  a  necessary  antagonism  be- 
tween capital  and  labor. 

In  the  democratization  of  industries  there  is, 
then,  nothing  inconsistent  with  our  present  so- 
cial system  and  nothing  calling  for  any  revolu- 
tion. There  is  already  a  healthy  evolution  in  this 
direction. 

Many  plans  for  the  democratization  of  indus- 
try have  been  proposed  and  many  already  put 
into  successful  operation.  Compare,  for  instance, 
the  Clark  Plan,  the  Whitley  Plan,  the  Colorado 
Plan,  the  Stotesbury-Mitten  Plan,  the  Leitch 
Plan,  the  Endicott-Johnson  Shoe  Company's 
Policy,  and  many  others.1  Compare  also  the  fol- 

1  For  a  description  of  the  remarkable  results  in  solving  the  labor 
problem  which  follow  upon  the  institution  of  industrial  democracy, 
see  the  little  book  by  John  Leitch,  Man  to  Man;  The  Story  of  Indus- 
trial Democracy.  Compare  also  the  pamphlet  entitled  Works  Coun- 


1 52  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

lowing  proposal  by  Dr.  Charles  W.  Eliot,  Presi- 
dent Emeritus  of  Harvard  University: 

This  plan  involves  on  the  part  of  employers  the 
abandonment  of  every  form  of  despotic  or  auto- 
cratic government  in  industries  which  deal  with  the 
necessaries  of  modern  life;  the  universal  adoption 
of  cooperative  management  and  discipline,  the  em- 
ployer and  workman  having  equal  representation  on 
managing  committees;  the  adoption  in  industries  of 
means  of  promoting  the  health  and  vigor  of  the  em- 
ployees and  their  families,  with  the  continuing  of 
education  for  adults;  provision  for  dealing  promptly 
and  justly  with  complaints,  in  which  foremen  may  be 
witnesses,  but  never  judges;  the  use  of  well-trained 
employment  managers;  the  adoption  of  a  partner- 
ship system  for  equal  distribution  of  profits  between 
capital  and  labor,  with  representatives  of  employees 
in  the  directorate;  the  diminution  of  monotony  and 
the  increase  of  variety  in  occupation;  the  universal 
acceptance  of  collective  bargaining;  and,  on  the  part 
of  the  employees,  the  abandonment  of  the  doctrine 
of  limited  output;  the  abandonment  of  the  idea  that 
it  is  desirable  for  workers  of  any  sort  to  work  as  few 
hours  in  the  day  as  possible;  rejection  of  the  notion 
that  leisure  rather  than  steady  work  should  be  the 
main  object  of  life;  the  selection  of  occupation  with 
regard  to  the  chance  in  it  for  interest  and  instructive- 
ness  and  consequent  satisfaction;  abandonment  of 
the  idea  that  capital  is  the  natural  enemy  of  labor 

cils  in  the  United  States,  published  by  the  National  Industrial  Con- 
ference Board  of  Boston,  and  the  articles  in  System,  December, 
1919,  and  Outlook,  December  10,  1919.  Compare  also  Meyer 
Bloomfield's  book  entitled  Management  and  Men,  and  the  Monthly 
Labor  Review,  January,  1920. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        153 

and  that  unorganized  laborers  are  traitors  to  their 
class;  abandonment  of  all  violence  toward  property 
and  persons  in  industrial  disputes;  and,  on  the  part  of 
both  parties  to  industrial  strife,  willing  adoption  of 
the  methods  of  conciliation,  arbitration,  and  ulti- 
mate decision  by  a  National  Government  Board; 
recognition  that  a  new  and  formidable  danger  threat- 
ens civilization  in  anarchy  and  violent  socialism; 
general  acceptance  of  the  view  that  American  liber- 
ties are  to  be  preserved  as  they  have  been  won  by 
personal  independence,  industry,  thrift,  truthfulness, 
respect  for  law  and  family  life,  and  a  readiness  to 
fight  in  defense  of  these  things;  and  acceptance  of 
the  truth  that  democracy  is  not  a  dead  level,  but  the 
free  cultivation  of  infinitely  diversified  human  gifts 
and  capacities.1 

The  question  of  complete  collective  ownership 
of  industries  is,  of  course,  another  matter  and 
the  psychology  of  it  is  interesting.  The  instinct 
of  ownership  is  individual,  and  collective  owner- 
ship would  seem  to  be  a  contradiction  in  terms. 
Its  whole  meaning  would  seem  to  be  lost  when  it 
is  socialized,  its  mainspring  and  motive  gone. 
Nevertheless,  instincts  such  as  these  may  be 
socialized,  as  we  have  seen,  within  narrow  limits 
and  still  retain  their  instinctive  nature,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  family  and  in  that  of  a  very 
narrow  and  closely  integrated  group,  or  even 
with  larger  groups  when  the  safety  of  the  group 
1  The  Outlook,  December  10,  19 19. 


154  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

is  threatened  or  when  there  is  a  vivid  sense 
of  emulation  and  rivalry  with  other  groups. 
Whether  ownership  could  be  socialized  in  gen- 
eral in  our  big  modern  industries,  it  is  difficult  to 
say,  as  there  seems  to  be  no  way  in  which  the 
necessary  spirit  of  rivalry  or  emulation  could  be 
retained  which  should  make  such  socialization 
conform  to  psychological  conditions.  Otherwise 
there  would  seem  to  be  little  gain.  The  first 
flush  of  ownership  would  be  a  novelty  which 
would  lighten  the  drudgery  of  industrial  toil  by 
the  hope  of  larger  returns  to  the  individual.  He 
would  see  the  promise  of  greater  wages  or  more 
goods  or  increased  independence. 

Closer  examination,  however,  shows  that  the 
situation  would  not  really  be  humanized,  or  at 
least  not  greatly  so.  There  are  still  to  be  big  cit- 
ies, big  industrial  centers,  immense  factories,  in- 
creased production,  more  desires  to  satisfy  and 
more  goods  to  satisfy  them.  The  economic  idea 
is  not  to  be  changed;  it  is  to  be  intensified.  The 
workman  will  still  find  himself  at  the  loom,  or 
the  lever,  or  the  counter,  or  the  desk,  or  the 
typewriter.  The  executive  part  of  the  work  will 
still  be  in  the  hands  of  experts  who  will  be  sought 
out  as  now  for  their  ability,  and  hired  as  now 
directly  or  indirectly,  and  the  "toiler"  will  not 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        155 

find  his  toil  greatly  alleviated  by  the  fact  that  at 
periodical  intervals  he  may  attend  a  directors' 
meeting  and  cast  his  vote  for  the  management. 
There  seems  to  be  here  little  increased  oppor- 
tunity for  invention,  contrivances,  dexterity, 
tact,  or  creative  effort. 

Such  movements  as  Syndicalism  and  Guild 
Socialism  sometimes  dazzle  us  because  they 
seem  at  first  to  offer  something  very  different, 
and  we  feel  that  something  very  different  from 
our  present  situation  is  necessary;  but  a  careful 
examination  of  them  shows  that  they  offer  noth- 
ing very  different.  They  are  by  no  means  so  radi- 
cal as  they  sound.  They  still  move  quite  within 
the  sphere  of  current  industrialized  thinking. 
The  distinctive  features  of  Syndicalism,  such  as 
the  general  strike  and  a  great  social  cataclysm, 
promise  a  social  chaos  which,  in  view  of  the 
things  that  have  happened  in  Europe  since  the 
war,  no  longer  seem  so  attractive  as  before,  but 
cause  us  to  shrink  from  them  in  dread  and  terror. 
The  nearer  view  of  cold  and  hunger  and  listless 
discouragement  and  inefficiency  and  the  tyranny 
of  new  leaders  has  taken  away  the  glamour  of 
revolution.  On  the  other  hand,  the  constructive 
features  of  these  movements  are  meager  and 
disappointing.  What  we  see  is  no  actual  return 


i56  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

to  an  arts  and  crafts  system,  no  real  opportunity 
for  the  expression  of  the  instinct  of  workman- 
ship, but  only  the  old  gigantic  industries,  per- 
haps unified  into  guilds.  One  looks  in  vain  for 
any  real  humanizing  of  the  industrial  system. 

Incidentally,  I  may  refer  here  to  one  peculiar 
feature  of  these  movements  which,  in  the  light 
of  psychological  study,  appears  in  quite  a  new 
light.  I  refer  to  the  proposal  sometimes  made  to 
"abolish"  the  State  and  let  society  be  built 
around  the  industrial  unit  on  a  strictly  indus- 
trial basis.  This  appears  to  be  a  complete  rever- 
sal of  the  psychological  method,  since  man's 
political  instincts  are  deeply  engrained  by  thou- 
sands of  years  of  political  life,  while  our  present 
industrial  system  is  not  yet  two  hundred  years 
old,  and  man  has  in  no  wise  fitted  himself  to  it. 
It  is  only  in  those  Utopian  schemes  in  which  the 
units  of  the  new  society  are  not  human  beings 
with  human  passions  and  weaknesses,  but  such 
dehumanized  and  denatured  angelic  creatures  as 
parade  in  Mr.  William  Morris's  "News  from 
Nowhere"  and  in  many  other  Utopias,  that  the 
State  is  unnecessary.  At  our  present  rate  of 
moral  progress  it  will  still  be  some  time  before 
there  are  no  disputes  to  settle,  no  criminals  to 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        157 

restrain,  no  laws  to  make  and  enforce,  no  taxes 
to  collect,  and  no  armies  to  raise. 

However,  if  we  wish  to  put  the  new  society  on 
a  human  basis  —  to  make  it  conform  to  psycho- 
logical laws — the  State  is  the  very  last  thing 
which  we  should  abolish.  Man  is  by  nature  a 
political  animal,  and  politics  gives  an  ample 
scope  to  many  fundamental  human  instincts.  It 
is  a  safe  guess  that  he  will  continue  to  be  politi- 
cally occupied  for  a  long  time  to  come.  If  any 
one  should  question  this,  it  would  only  be  neces- 
sary to  observe  the  conspicuous  role  played  by 
politics  in  the  post-war  history  of  the  European 
nations,  when,  if  ever,  it  was  imperative  that 
the  people  should  settle  down  to  work  and  the 
building-up  of  their  depleted  industries. 

Ancient  Athens,  devoted  as  it  was  to  art,  liter- 
ature, and  philosophy,  seethed  with  politics.  In 
Central  American  republics,  where  it  is  too  hot 
to  work,  political  activity  flourishes.  I  am  here 
using  the  word  "politics"  in  its  strict  sense,  as 
activity  in  the  affairs  of  the  State,  an  activity 
which  is  fundamentally  human  and  gives  ex- 
pression to  many  deep  functional  demands,  such 
as  thought,  mental  activity,  organization,  lead- 
ership, and  loyalty.1  Perhaps  much  the  same 

1  "Political  life  is,  as  Aristotle  later  described  it,  an  arena  for 
distinguished  action,  a  conspicuous  jousting-place  for  contending 


1 58  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

might  be  said  of  party  politics,  which  also  seems 
to  afford  a  field  for  human  instinctive  activities 
and  enters  actively  into  all  our  countless  modern 
organizations,  societies,  and  unions.  It  is  becom- 
ing pretty  clear  that  man  finds  his  highest  hap- 
piness, not  in  the  ends  for  which  his  unions  and 
organizations  exist,  but  in  the  unions  and  organ- 
izations themselves.  In  the  latter  is  found  real 
life  with  all  its  restless  strivings,  hopes,  and 
fears;  in  the  former  is  the  dead  level  of  things 
acquired,  or  wealth  and  leisure  and  an  adequate 
scale  of  living.  It  will  be  a  long  time  before  man 
ceases  to  be  a  politician  and  becomes  merely  a 
laborer  in  the  industrial  sense. 

It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  merely  socializ- 
ing our  means  of  production  will  not  humanize 
them,  while  substituting  an  industrial  society 
for  the  State  would  dehumanize  it  still  further.1 

principles  and  men  having  much  energy  to  discharge.  .  .  .  We  are 
social  and  political  creatures,  at  least  in  part,  because  we  need  to 
inject  our  reasons  and  our  moral  perceptions  into  the  world's  work. 
We  build  states,  at  least  in  part,  because  of  this  will  to  power." 
(W.  E.  Hocking,  Human  Nature  and  Its  Remaking,  p.  88.) 

1  "  That  the  industrial  organization  of  society  can  supersede  the 
political  organization  is  perhaps  no  longer  held  by  serious  think- 
ers," says  Mr.  j.  H.  Harley  in  his  book  on  Syndicalism.  "There 
are  signs  that,  whilst  preserving  their  zeal  for  their  own  associa- 
tions, the  syndicalists  of  the  world  are  forgetting  the  first  fury  of 
their  opposition  to  the  politician  "  (p.  90). 

The  present  position  is  rather  this,  that  while  the  State  shall  be 
organized  geographically  as  before,  the  several  industries  must  be 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK       159 

This  brings  us  to  consider  the  other  part  of  the 
plan  for  making  industrial  life  endurable  and  re- 
lieving the  position  of  the  toiler,  and  this  is  by 
adding  to  his  hours  of  leisure.  It  seems  generally 
to  be  admitted  in  all  the  reform  movements  that 
industrial  labor  is  an  evil  of  the  nature  of  drudg- 
ery, and  it  seems  pretty  certain  that  the  drudg- 
ery aspect  of  it,  while  it  might  be  somewhat 
alleviated  by  collective  management,  cannot  be 
greatly  relieved  in  this  way.  At  a  meeting  of  the 
Boston  Central  Labor  Union,  a  speaker  who 
mentioned  the  "joy  of  labor"  was  met  by  the 
derisive  laughter  of  the  men,  as  Dr.  Cabot  says. 
The  attitude  of  these  working-men  toward  labor 
was  the  result  of  their  actual  experience,  not  a 
reflection  of  the  old-time  custom  of  regarding 
manual  labor  as  lacking  in  dignity  and  respect. 
There  seems  to  be  comparatively  little  of  this 

independently  organized  and  controlled  by  their  workers.  But  here 
again  we  meet  with  difficulty.  "Is  it  not  the  case,"  says  the  same 
writer,  "that  some  industries,  such  as  those  which  have  to  do 
with  keeping  open  lines  of  communication,  are  so  fundamental  to 
the  well-being  of  the  community  that  the  citizens  generally  can't 
leave  them  without  heavy  and  adequate  representation  of  the 
people  at  large?"  (Syndicalism,  p.  87.) 

The  relation  of  the  political  state  to  the  guild  state  is  further 
explained  by  Mr.  G.  R.  Stirling-Taylor  in  his  book  The  Guild  State. 
To  the  former  very  important  functions  are  conceded  and  still 
more  sweeping  ones  would  in  the  opinion  of  others  necessarily 
follow. 


i6o  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

feeling  left,  although,  as  Professor  Veblen  shows, 
it  has  been  the  determining  social  element  in  the 
past.1  The  remedy,  therefore,  for  the  drudgery 
of  labor  is  sought,  in  our  modern  reconstruction 
movements,  in  lessening  the  daily  amount  of  it 
and  adding  to  the  hours  of  leisure.  The  workman 
is  to  work  at  unpleasant  toil  for  six  or  eight 
hours  of  the  day;  he  is  to  sleep  eight  hours;  and 
for  the  remaining  eight  or  ten  hours  he  is  to  be 
set  free  to  do  as  he  likes. 

Here  we  are  immediately  confronted  with  the 
question,  How  will  he  use  those  leisure  hours? 
And  when  we  attempt  to  answer  this  question, 
we  instantly  idealize  the  working-man  and  we 
expect  him  to  use  his  leisure  as  the  intelligent, 
well-poised,  and  self-controlled  laboring-man 
would  do.  We  picture  him  again  in  his  working- 
man's  dress,  tall,  straight,  clear  of  vision,  and 
definite  of  purpose.  Such  a  man  will  use  his  leis- 
ure wisely,  in  devotion  to  his  family,  in  some 
kind  of  constructive  workmanship,  as  in  arts  or 
crafts,  in  self-improvement,  in  spiritual  develop- 
ment, in  reading  and  study,  and  in  the  pursuit 
and  enjoyment  of  art,  science,  and  literature. 
But  when  we  try  to  visualize  the  actual  millions 
of  workers,  male  and  female,  young  and  old, 

1  Thorstein  Veblen,  The  Theory  of  the  Leisure  Class. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK       161 

pouring  from  the  shops,  factories,  offices,  and 
stores,  we  see  that  the  psychology  of  the  leisure 
hours  is  a  difficult  problem.  What  most  of  these 
people  will  seek  will  be  entertainment  and 
amusement,  and  those  perhaps  not  of  a  very 
high  type. 

This  whole  subject  of  leisure  needs  to  be  stud- 
ied in  its  psychological,  economic,  and  social  as- 
pects. In  all  our  plans  for  improved  social  con- 
ditions it  is  almost  uniformly  taken  for  granted 
that  leisure,  resulting  from  a  shortened  working- 
day  or  from  time-saving  and  labor-saving  de- 
vices, will  be  an  unmixed  good.  But  leisure  itself 
is  not  good;  it  may  be  a  serious  evil.  There  have, 
indeed,  been  epochs  in  history  when  men,  re- 
leased from  toil  by  wealth  or  otherwise,  have 
turned  their  thoughts  to  beautifying  their  en- 
vironment and  surrounding  themselves  with 
works  of  art.  At  such  times,  too,  poetry,  music, 
and  the  worthy  drama  have  flourished.  Is  it 
quite  certain  that  we  are  now  living  in  a  time 
when  mankind  can  be  trusted  with  leisure?  It  is 
probable  that  the  time  is  far  distant  when  our 
system  of  education  and  our  sense  of  individ- 
ual responsibility  will  be  sufficiently  developed  to 
make  added  hours  of  leisure  a  safe  social  experi- 
ment. 


162  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

What,  then,  it  may  be  asked,  shall  we  do? 
Shall  the  laborer  be  kept  at  work  ten  or  twelve 
hours  a  day  in  order  that  he  may  not  misuse  his 
leisure?  But  this  question  implies  a  complete 
misapprehension  of  the  position  taken  by  the 
psychologist  or  the  student  of  social  problems. 
The  laborer  is,  no  doubt,  quite  as  able  to  use 
his  leisure  wisely  as  the  so-called  leisure  classes; 
more  able,  perhaps.  In  ancient  Athens  the  leisure 
classes  made  fairly  good  use  of  this  opportunity. 
In  our  modern  times  they  have  often  made  ludi- 
crous spectacles  of  themselves.  The  real  problem 
is  quite  different  from  this.  It  is  not  a  question 
of  classes;  it  is  a  question  of  the  relation  of 
leisure  to  our  whole  industrial  and  educational 
system  —  the  relation  of  leisure  to  our  theory  of 
life.  It  is  probable  that  the  safe  use  of  leisure  im- 
plies a  degree  and  kind  of  education  which  our 
American  people  do  not  yet  possess.  In  southern 
lands  and  among  the  southern  races  the  prob- 
lem is  quite  a  different  one.  The  pulse  of  energy 
which  is  now  pouring  into  the  nervous  system  of 
our  northern  people  makes  leisure  dangerous.1 

1  "To-day  more  Americans  are  seriously  endangered  by  an  un' 
wise  consumption  of  wealth  or  by  an  inept  use  of  leisure  than  by 
overwork  or  by  evil  conditions  of  work,  although  the  latter,  to  a 
considerable  extent,  induce  the  former."  (Walter  E.  Weyl,  The 
New  Democracy,  p.  330.) 

Dr.  Charles  W.  Eliot,  President  Emeritus  of  Harvard  Univer- 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK       163 

Many  educators,  as  we  know,  are  now  advo- 
cating doing  away  with  the  long  summer  vaca- 
tions in  our  schools.  Some  favor  a  much  longer 
school  day,  or  school  six  days  of  the  week,  the 
school,  of  course,  to  be  quite  different  from  our 
present  perfunctory  study  and  recitation  plan 
and  to  be  more  like  real  life.  This  furnishes  us 
the  key  to  the  social  problem  of  leisure.  Most 
men  are  children,  and  what  they  want  is  not 
leisure,  but  life;  and  this  applies  to  the  rich  as 
well  as  the  poor,  and  to  the  poor  as  well  as  the 
rich,  a  distinction  in  which  in  these  psychologi- 
cal studies  we  are  not  much  interested.  It  is  un- 
natural for  a  man  to  be  engaged  in  toil  or  drudg- 
ery six  or  eight  hours  of  the  day  and  then  be  set 
free  to  fill  up  his  leisure  time.  His  work  must  be 
his  life  and  his  life  his  work.  But  this  implies 
a  different  kind  of  work  from  that  proposed  in 
our  present  industrial  system  or  the  industrial 
system  planned  in  our  social  reforms.  It  is  alto- 
gether possible  that  if  a  man  should  find  his 
work  during  his  six  or  eight  hours,  something  to 

sity,  in  his  proposed  plan  for  the  settlement  or  prevention  of  in- 
dustrial conflicts  recommends  "  the  abandonment  of  the  idea  that  it 
is  desirable  for  workers  of  any  sort  to  work  as  few  hours  in  the  day 
as  possible";  and  the  "rejection  of  the  notion  that  leisure  rather 
than  steady  work  should  be  the  main  object  of  life."  (See  above, 
pp.  152,  153.) 


i64  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

call  forth  his  best  endeavors,  something  of  vital 
interest,  he  could  profitably  fill  his  remaining 
time  in  healthful  relaxation,  play,  gardening, 
home-building,  etc. 

Some  writers  on  reconstruction,  recognizing 
the  importance  of  the  instinct  of  workmanship 
and  understanding  that  our  industrial  system 
does  not  find  a  place  for  this,  suggest  that  this 
instinct  might  find  its  appropriate  expression 
during  the  leisure  hours;  but  this  instinct  i3  not 
of  the  nature  of  the  thing  which  can  be  pursued 
as  a  pastime  during  leisure  hours;  it  is  life  itself 
—  and  society,  if  it  is  to  be  reorganized,  must  be 
organized  on  the  basis  of  this  and  other  vital  in- 
terests; but  we  propose  to  organize  society  on 
the  industrial  basis  and  make  these  instinctive 
interests  a  matter  for  our  leisure  hours. 

It  would  appear,  therefore,  that  none  of  the 
reconstruction  movements  of  the  day  hold  out 
any  real  hope  for  humanizing  labor  or  promise 
any  real  expression  of  the  instinct  of  workman- 
ship. The  picture  is  somewhat  brightened  by 
the  good-will  which  may  be  introduced  between 
employers  and  employees  through  the  democra- 
tization of  industries.  But  for  increase  of  wages, 
or  for  leisure,  or  for  collective  ownership,  psy- 
chological motives  fail. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        165 

Other  plans  have,  of  course,  been  proposed 
for  redeeming  the  life  of  the  industrial  laborer, 
such  for  instance  as  industrial  education  and  im- 
proving the  conditions  of  living.  Certainly  these 
are  necessary  stages  in  our  industrial  growth,  but 
as  a  solution  of  the  problem  of  labor  the  futil- 
ity of  these  means  is  evident.  This  has  been  so 
well  expressed  by  John  Manning  Booker,  in  a 
recent  article  on  "Industrial  Partnership,"  that 
I  quote  from  him  at  some  length : 

For  three  quarters  of  a  century  the  social-uplift 
worker  has  been  nobly  engaged  in  bettering  the  con- 
ditions of  living  created  by  modern  industry.  With 
much  to  be  done,  he  has  accomplished  much;>but  his 
most  has  failed  to  bring  content.  Even  where  he  has 
secured  the  active  cooperation  of  the  State  and  the 
individual  manufacturer,  and,  in  consequence,  suc- 
ceeded in  attaining  or  approximating  his  ideals,  he 
has  failed,  we  venture  to  say,  to  bring  content. 

Houses  designed  with  a  view  to  please  the  work- 
man's eye  and  reduce  the  labor  of  his  wife  —  sew- 
ered, drained,  centrally  heated,  electrically  lighted, 
equipped  with  "all  the  modern  inconveniences/'  and 
with  a  stunted  evergreen  in  a  garden  box  on  each 
side  of  the  front  door;  hospitals  and  community 
nurses;  schools  that  have  theaters,  refectories,  gym- 
nasiums, pictures  on  the  walls,  and  even  real  teachers 
in  the  classrooms;  libraries  —  open  or  closed  shelf; 
parks  and  playgrounds  with  trained  attendants,  one 
to  show  the  larger  children  how  to  use  the  gymnas- 
tic apparatus,  another  to  lead  the  songs  and  dances 


166  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

of  the  middle-sized  children,  and  a  third  to  dust 
the  babies;  churches  with  every  conceivable  parish- 
house  activity  and  preachers  who  make  using  the 
Ten  Commandments  seem  easy  and  natural  —  all 
this  is  paradise,  but  it  is  not  content.  And  the  real 
man  would  be  just  about  as  contented  in  such  a  com- 
munity as  he  would  be  in  paradise;  which  is  to  say, 
not  much:  unless,  contrary  to  everything  we  have 
been  led  to  expect,  he  should  be  permitted  to  tumble 
it  down  and  build  it  over  again.  We  could  get  used 
to  walking  on  golden  pavements  in  no  time;  but  it 
would  make  us  extremely  nervous  and  depressed  to 
know  they  were  permanently  laid. 

The  industrial  education  idea  appeals  to  us  as 
nearer  the  mark;  but  it  falls  short.  It  benefits  too  few. 
It  benefits  the  real  craftsman  —  the  designers  among 
laborers.  But  this  element  has  decreased  in  propor- 
tion to  the  increase  of  quantity  output.  In  past  times 
every  skilled  workman  was  a  designer  or  an  appren- 
tice to  a  designer;  but  nowadays  the  only  survivor  of 
the  craftsman  is  literally  one  in  a  thousand.  Tens  of 
thousands  engaged  in  making  clothes  for  American 
men;  and  how  many  cutters!  Industrial  education  is 
a  splendid  thing;  but  it  is  for  the  few,  because  under 
modern  conditions  only  the  few  have  a  chance  to 
use  it. 

The  betterment  of  living  conditions  and  the  spread 
of  industrial  education,  therefore,  will  not,  in  our  opin- 
ion, suffice  to  content  the  workman  and  allay  the  in- 
dustrial unrest. 

At  its  present  stage  this  discussion  may  be  thus 
summed  up:  If  the  workman  is  to  be  happy  in  his 
work,  his  building  instinct  must  be  satisfied.  This  in- 
stinct, which  formerly  found  relief  in  making  a  whole 
thing,  has  been  choked  by  the  processes  of  modern 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        167 

manufacture  involved  in  quantity  output.  The  ma- 
chinery of  modern  industry  has  made  a  machine  of 
the  workman;  it  has  brutalized  him.  But  the  indus- 
trial system  is  here  to  stay.  The  problem  is  how  to 
humanize  it.  How  can  we  change  the  workman's  job 
so  that  while  he  is  at  it  he  will  feel  like  a  man  build- 
ing something?  Like  a  man?  Like  a  god.  And  then  to 
find  enough  of  such  jobs.  A  large  order  —  that.  Profit- 
sharing  will  not  fill  it,  or  betterment  of  living  condi- 
tions, or  industrial  education.  We  cannot  see  how  any 
of  these  things  alone  will  correct  the  existing  evil,  be- 
cause, to  our  mind,  none  of  them  is  aimed  at  the  root 
of  it;  namely,  the  industrial  system's  stultification  of 
the  individual  workman's  building  instinct.1 

This  author  believes  that  the  only  possible 
solution  of  this  question  —  and  that  one  by  no 
means  certain  —  is  industrial  partnership.  I 
have  referred  above  to  the  possibilities  of  indus- 
trial democracy.  It  can  surely  alleviate,  though 
it  cannot  cure,  the  evils  inherent  in  our  indus- 
trial system.  Collective  management,  like  col- 
lective ownership,  might  relieve  for  a  season 
the  burden  of  industrial  labor,  but  the  "handle- 
turner"  will  be  the  handle-turner  still.  The 
truth  of  the  matter  is  that  our  whole  industrial 
system,  in  its  severer  features,  is  less  than  one 
hundred  years  old,  while  human  nature  is  sev- 
eral hundred  thousand  years  old,  and  mankind 

1  "Industrial  Partnership,"  Yale  Review,  January,  1920,  pp. 
9^3-95- 


168  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

is  adapted  to  a  very  different  kind  of  life  from 
that  incident  to  our  modern  industrialism.  It 
goes  along  with  our  steam-heated,  air-tight 
houses,  our  gasoline  and  electric  cars  and  burden- 
bearers,  with  our  city  and  sedentary  life,  with 
our  hospitals,  doctors,  and  dentists.  The  twen- 
tieth century  will  perhaps  determine  whether 
we  can  adapt  ourselves  to  this  new,  and 
for  man  unnatural,  order,  or  whether  our  indus- 
trial system  itself  may  prove  to  be  the  ruin  of 
our  civilization. 

But  there  is  one  curious  aspect  of  the  situation 
still  to  be  noticed.  If  we  speak  of  the  instinct  of 
workmanship,  not  in  its  narrower  sense  of  crafts- 
manship, but  in  the  broader  sense  of  planning, 
contriving,  inventing,  designing,  including  all 
forms  of  creative  activity,  we  must  recognize 
that  our  present  social  order  gives  large  oppor- 
tunity for  its  expression.  This  has  been  conspic- 
uously true  in  America. 

Never  in  the  world's  history  has  so  large  a 
mass  of  men,  hundreds  of  millions  of  them,  had 
so  glorious  an  opportunity  for  the  free  expres- 
sion of  every  latent  energy,  as  have  the  pioneers 
and  citizens  of  the  Americas  during  the  time 
since  the  discovery  of  the  Western  hemisphere. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        169 

Our  country  has  offered  unparalleled  opportu- 
nities for  the  instinct  of  workmanship  in  its 
wider  meaning.  America  has  been  the  paradise  of 
the  inventor,  the  discoverer,  the  entrepreneur, 
the  organizer,  the  adventurer.  "Enterprises," 
" projects,"  and  "propositions"  are  the  lan- 
guage of  the  country.  It  has  been  the  place  where 
all  may  adventure,  speculate,  and  experiment; 
where  they  could  think  new  thoughts  and  try 
them  out.  Plans,  contrivances,  and  ideas  have 
been  everybody's  privilege.  Pursuits  and  under- 
takings of  all  kinds  have  been  in  order.  Initia- 
tive has  found  here  a  ready  market.  It  has  been 
the  home  of  achievement,  of  inventiveness,  and 
of  analytical  thought  —  and  all  this  is  life.  It 
is  real  life. 

To  what  extent  is  this  true  at  the  present 
time  and  to  what  extent  will  it  be  true  in  the 
future?  Our  answer  will  depend  much  upon  our 
point  of  view.  If  our  experience  has  been  in  the 
great  industrial  centers  where  men  are  herded 
in  monster  factories,  condemned  to  a  life  of  me- 
chanical drudgery,  we  may  say  that  the  oppor- 
tunity is  past.  If,  however,  we  picture  our  coun- 
try as  a  whole  including  our  great  agricultural 
and  fruit-growing  States  in  the  Middle  West,  in 
the  South,  upon  the  Pacific  slope,  our  answer 


i7o  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

will  be  different.  In  general,  our  writers  upon 
social  and  industrial  reform  have  quite  too  uni- 
formly concerned  themselves  with  our  great  in- 
dustrial centers.  Let  the  observer  ride  through 
the  cities,  towns,  and  country  of  any  great  typi- 
cal Western  or  Pacific  State.  He  discovers  first 
an  endless  succession  of  well-tilled  farms,  a  large 
proportion  of  them  cultivated  by  their  owners. 
The  farmers  are,  for  the  most  part,  prosperous 
and  happy,  enjoying  abundance  of  food,  living 
in  neat  and  comfortable  houses,  rejoicing  in 
many  modern  conveniences  such  as  telephones, 
free  delivery  of  mail,  and  transportation  by 
means  of  motor-cars.  They  are  free  from  dangers 
and  oppressive  taxes,  both  parents  and  children 
planning  many  ventures  for  gain,  for  pleasure, 
for  advancement. 

At  short  intervals  throughout  this  great  terri- 
tory the  traveler  will  find  an  interminable  num- 
ber of  small  towns  and  villages,  all  very  much 
alike  and  all  representing  a  high  degree  of  com- 
fort and  happiness.  A  large  proportion  of  the 
homes  in  these  countless  towns  and  villages  will 
be  found  supplied  with  bathrooms  and  electric 
lights;  daily  newspapers,  books,  and  magazines 
abound;  the  men  and  women  are  well-dressed 
and    well-fed,    the    children    regularly    attend 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        171 

school,  and  the  people  of  the  whole  community 
are  safe  and  secure  in  the  possession  of  homes, 
property,  and  children.  They  too  are  enjoying 
for  the  most  part  a  life  in  which  instinctive  hu- 
man needs  for  planning,  thinking,  speculating, 
initiating  and  trying  new  things  and  new  ven- 
tures find  full  expression. 

Again  at  greater  intervals  will  be  found  large 
cities,  and  here  again  the  teeming  life  of  business 
and  pleasure  attests  a  people  in  which  self-ex- 
pression has  attained  a  development  never  be- 
fore seen  in  this  world.  If  one  doubts  whether  the 
instinct  of  workmanship  finds  expression  in  our 
modern  cities,  it  is  only  necessary  to  take  a  single 
instance  out  of  thousands  and  reflect  upon  the 
amount  of  inventive  genius  which  in  the  last 
twenty  years  has  been  expended  upon  the  auto- 
mobile and  the  motor-truck  alone;  not  merely 
upon  the  expenditure  of  genius  in  perfecting  the 
mechanism  of  the  cars,  but  in  all  the  ramifica- 
tions of  this  great  industry  —  in  organizing  new 
companies,  in  planning  and  building  great  new 
shops  and  factories,  in  advertising  and  selling 
stocks  and  bonds,  in  designing  new  forms  of  in- 
surance, in  building  and  operating  innumerable 
local  garages,  in  enterprises  designed  to  meet 
the  new  demands  for  motor  fuel,  and  in  countless 


172  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

other  ways.  If  one  will  let  his  thought  extend  to 
the  vast  number  of  our  cities,  towns,  and  villages 
or  think  of  the  incredible  activity  of  our  millions 
of  people  in  their  various  forms  of  undertakings, 
one  will  realize  to  what  an  extent  in  this  land 
and  in  these  days  the  instinct  of  workmanship 
has  found  expression.  Even  in  our  industrial  cen- 
ters we  have  become  accustomed  to  fix  our  atten- 
tion upon  the  life  of  the  laborer  and  have  for- 
gotten the  inventive  genius  expended  in  building 
up  the  industries  themselves. 

I  am  by  no  means  unmindful  of  the  poverty 
and  misery  in  our  great  cities  and  industrial  cen- 
ters, but  the  fact  remains  that  for  years  we  have 
had  only  one  side  of  this  picture  presented  to  us; 
namely,  the  hardships  and  miseries  of  the  indus- 
trial worker,  and  these  have  often  been  greatly 
exaggerated.  While  we  must  never  relax  our 
efforts  until  the  last  sufferer  is  relieved,  still, 
when  it  comes  to  a  proposed  reconstruction  of 
our  social  life,  ordinary  sanity  bids  us  gain  a 
balanced  view  of  the  whole  actual  situation.  The 
assumption  in  all  our  social-reform  movements 
of  the  day  is  that  it  would  be  possible,  in  a  land 
of  more  than  a  hundred  million  people,  whose 
gregarious  impulses  draw  them  into  large  and 
ever  larger  cities,  many  of  these  people  being 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  WORK        173 

ignorant  and  improvident  and  many  defective 
in  mind  or  body,  to  devise  some  sort  of  gov- 
ernment or  industrial  organization  by  which  all 
should  be  well-fed,  well-clothed,  well-housed, 
comfortable,  and  happy.  It  is  easy  to  think  of 
social  schemes  by  which  this  could  be  accom- 
plished for  a  short  time. 


CHAPTER  VI 
OUR  CENTRIFUGAL  SOCIETY 

IN  the  preceding  chapters  we  have  seen  that 
the  popular  reconstruction  movements  of  the 
day,  fixing  attention  as  they  do  upon  industrial 
efficiency,  increased  production,  an  adequate 
scale  of  living,  leisure,  and  opportunity,  fail  to 
provide  either  for  the  expression  or  sublimation 
of  a  large  group  of  human  instincts  and  propen- 
sities that  go  to  make  up  what  we  commonly 
call  life.  In  this  and  the  following  chapter  we 
have  to  consider  another  omission  in  these  plans 
for  a  new  society,  namely,  the  omission  to  pro- 
vide for  social  integration  and  solidarity;  that  is, 
for  social  discipline.1 

We  have  seen  that  that  social  order  is  best 
which  best  provides  a  field  for  human  activities 
and  the  expression  of  human  instincts.  Up  to 
this  point  we  have  considered  man  as  if  he  were 
an  individual  seeking  a  field  for  his  activities  and 
his  interests.  Now  a  new  factor  appears,  which 

1  I  wish  to  acknowledge  my  indebtedness  throughout  this  chap- 
ter to  Professor  Irving  Babbitt,  Mr.  Paul  Elmer  More,  and  the 
Italian  historian,  Ferrero.  Mr.  More's  Platonism,  Professor  Bab- 
bitt's Rousseau  and  Romanticism,  and  Ferrero's  Ancient  Rome  and 
Modern  America  are  certainly  wholesome  reading  for  the  "vota- 
ries of  the  god  whirl"  in  this  centrifugal  age. 


OUR  CENTRIFUGAL  SOCIETY        175 

greatly  modifies  and  complicates  the  situation, 
namely,  the  social  factor.  We  live  in  society,  and 
furthermore  a  society  which  is  getting  yearly 
more  and  more  crowded.  Other  people  demand  a 
fair  field  for  their  activities,  and  other  and  com- 
ing generations  demand  it.  Our  problem,  there- 
fore, becomes  this:  How  shall  we  live  so  that  all 
in  this  and  in  succeeding  generations  shall  have 
a  fair  field  for  their  activities  ? 

Although  so  many  persistent  dispositions  are 
not  provided  for  in  our  social-reform  move- 
ments, there  are  certain  primary  instincts  which 
are  to  be  given  full  expression.  All  these  move- 
ments operate  quite  in  the  spirit  of  the  prevail- 
ing philosophy  of  the  day,  the  philosophy  of  the 
full,  free,  and  abundant  life,  the  philosophy  of 
self-expression,  as  it  is  commonly  called.  In  this 
respect  the  popular  reconstruction  movements 
are  neither  better  nor  worse  than  the  current 
philosophy  of  the  day.  They  simply  reflect  it, 
take  it  for  granted,  and  hope  to  provide  a  social 
order  in  which  it  may  find  complete  fruition. 
There  is  no  attempt  in  any  of  the  reconstruc- 
tion plans  to  check  the  flamboyant  centrifugal 
tendencies  characterizing  this  early  part  of  our 
century. 

As  I  said  in  a  preceding  chapter,  there  is  a 


176  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

certain  current  popular  philosophy  of  life  under- 
lying all  our  social  movements  and  all  our  eco- 
nomic theories.  It  is  the  philosophy  of  the  full, 
free,  and  abundant  life.  It  is  this  philosophy 
which  is  at  the  basis  of  our  current  views  of 
economic  value  as  that  which  satisfies  human 
wants  and  desires.  It  is  at  the  basis  of  much  of 
our  ethical  theorizing,  which  finds  the  final  ethi- 
cal motives  to  be  the  largeness  of  conscious  life, 
a  life  that  is  rich,  full,  and  satisfying,  ministering 
to  the  whole  circle  of  our  organic  and  spiritual 
needs.  Social  welfare  is  then  defined  as  a  state  in 
which  all  shall  enjoy  this  richness  and  fullness  of 
life.  Even  Nietzsche,  the  patron  saint  of  the  full 
and  abundant  life,  knew  that  this  would  not 
work  out  as  a  social  philosophy,  and  hence  ad- 
vocated it  only  for  the  chosen  class  of  Masters, 
while  the  great  body  of  the  people  were  to  prac- 
tice the  Christian  virtues  of  self-denial. 

We  see  at  once  and  in  advance  that  while  we 
talk  freely  of  self-expression  or  self-realization, 
what  we  have  in  mind  is  not  complete  self-ex- 
pression nor  is  it  self-realization  in  any  adequate 
sense.  It  is  expansion  rather  that  we  mean;  that 
is,  it  is  the  expression  of  a  certain  narrow  group 
of  sentiments  and  instincts,  especially  the  senti- 
ments of  freedom  and  equality  and  the  instinct 


OUR  CENTRIFUGAL  SOCIETY        177 

of  revolt  at  any  kind  of  restraint  or  confine- 
ment. Professor  Babbitt  uses  the  word  "eleu- 
theromania"  to  indicate  the  almost  pathologi- 
cal passion  for  freedom  and  self-determination 
which  marks  the  modern  man.  Real  self-expres- 
sion is  a  very  different  thing  from  this  and  in- 
volves the  outgoing  of  the  whole  personality, 
including  not  merely  a  narrow  group  of  primary 
self-regarding  instincts,  but  the  whole  class  of 
our  innate  dispositions,  some  of  which  we  have 
studied  in  a  former  chapter;  while  self-realiza- 
tion is  found  not  in  the  expression  of  our  peculi- 
arly egoistic  sentiments  at  all,  but  in  the  har- 
monious exercise  of  all  our  powers,  instinctive, 
intellectual,  and  aesthetic,  in  the  cultivation  of 
social  relationships,  and  even  in  the  suppression 
of  such  instinctive  propensities  as  may  be  neces- 
sary for  social  existence.  When  we  begin  to  talk 
about  "self-expression"  and  "self-realization," 
we  must  keep  constantly  in  mind  the  "larger 
self"  and  the  "totality  of  interests." 

Let  us,  however,  examine  this  philosophy  of 
the  day,  this  centrifugal,  expansive  conception 
of  life,  and  see  what  its  merits  and  possible  de- 
fects may  be.  It  is  the  view  which  puts  special 
emphasis  upon  self-determination;  upon  free- 


178  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

dom  from  every  kind  of  autocracy  or  class  rule 
or  oppression  or  repression;  upon  equality  of 
opportunity;  upon  freedom  for  self-develop- 
ment and  culture;  upon  complete  liberty  to 
realize  one's  own  inner  needs  and  one's  own  per- 
sonality; upon  escape  from  all  old  and  cramping 
conventions  and  institutions;  upon  naturalness, 
will,  and  efficiency. 

These  are  our  ideals,  and  to  most  of  us  they 
are  so  obvious  that  they  seem  to  need  no  discus- 
sion. They  have  found  expression  in  our  current 
drama  and  fiction,  in  our  moving  pictures,  in 
our  books  and  magazines,  and  in  all  our  plans 
for  social  reform.  We  have  come  to  take  them 
quite  for  granted. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  worth  while  to  examine 
these  ideas  with  a  little  care.  As  ideals  they  are 
obviously  good.  This  may  pass  unchallenged. 
But  it  is  not  self-evident  that  they  are  the  high- 
est ideals,  nor  is  it  self-evident  that  they  are 
alone  sufficient  as  a  foundation  for  social  wel- 
fare. It  seems  rather  that  the  present  age  is 
merely  obsessed  with  these  ideas,  just  as  other 
epochs  of  history  like  that  of  the  ancient  He- 
brews, or  that  of  Greece  and  Rome,  or  that  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  were  obsessed  with  a  wholly 
different  set  of  ideas. 


OUR  CENTRIFUGAL  SOCIETY        179 

For  instance,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  poverty, 
chastity,  and  obedience  were  the  monastic  vir- 
tues, and  every  ambitious  boy  aspired  to  be  a 
monk.  We  look  in  vain  now  for  many  ardent  dev- 
otees of  either  poverty,  chastity,  or  obedience. 
Our  attitude  toward  these  mediaeval  ideas  is  one 
of  humorous  superiority,  not  perhaps  fully  justi- 
fied by  the  relative  differences  in  the  two  civiliza- 
tions as  measured  by  such  standards  as  social 
stability  or  the  development  of  the  fine  arts, 
such  as  architecture,  painting,  and  poetry. 

Still  another  set  of  ideas  ruled  in  the  best  pe- 
riod of  Grecian  civilization,  likewise  wholly  dif- 
ferent from  ours.  These  were  temperance  in  the 
sense  of  balance  and  moderation,  measure,  lim- 
itation, order,  form,  harmony,  symmetry,  and 
beauty.  Francis  Galton  perhaps  spoke  with 
some  exaggeration  when  he  said  that  the  average 
intelligence  of  the  Athenian  race  was  at  least 
two  grades  above  our  own.  But  while  we  may 
smile  at  the  ideals  of  the  monks,  we  must  take 
very  seriously  those  of  the  Greeks  as  long  as  we 
are  still  using  as  models  so  many  of  their  master- 
pieces of  political  philosophy,  poetry,  sculpture, 
architecture,  eloquence,  and  literature.  It  is  all 
a  matter  of  historical  perspective.  Some  future 
period  may  smile  at  our  childlike  devotion  to 


180  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

liberty,  equality,  and  fraternity,  or  self-expres- 
sion, or  the  full,  free,  and  abundant  life,  to  the 
neglect  of  many  other  equally  important  ideas. 

In  all  our  discussion  now  about  social  recon- 
struction and  a  new  social  order,  is  it  not  a  little 
peculiar  that  the  ideas  which  we  are  trying  so 
hard  to  realize  in  this  new  social  order  —  lib- 
erty, equality,  efficiency,  opportunity,  self-ex- 
pression, and  self-determination  —  are  just  the 
ones  that  already  mark  this  period  when  com- 
pared with  other  past  periods  and  past  civiliza- 
tions? We  may  be  deficient  in  these  virtues,  but 
we  have  them  in  profuse  abundance  as  com- 
pared with  other  times,  and  we  have  them  in  ex- 
cess as  compared  with  other  virtues,  such  as  love 
of  beauty  and  of  symmetry,  proportion,  mod- 
eration, measure,  and  limitation  of  desires.  Is  it 
safe  to  enter  so  passionately  upon  the  remodel- 
ing of  our  social  institutions  with  our  eyes  fixed 
so  exclusively  upon  any  one  circle  of  ideas? 

Self-expression  is  perhaps  the  best  single  term 
defining  our  present-day  philosophy  of  life  — 
or,  possibly,  self-realization,  or  initiative,  or  en- 
ergy. The  keynote  of  modern  painting,  music, 
and  poetry  is  expression,  and  that  of  modern 
sculpture  is  energy.  In  our  educational  systems 
our  aim  is  to  develop  all  the  latent  energies  and 


OUR  CENTRIFUGAL  SOCIETY        181 

possibilities  of  the  child.  He  must  express  him- 
self, bring  out  the  full  richness  of  his  personality, 
give  full  scope  to  his  individuality,  develop  to 
the  utmost  his  genius  and  his  talent.  When  man- 
hood and  womanhood  are  attained,  old  social 
conventions  must  not  stand  in  the  way  of  this 
inner  need  of  self-realization  and  self-expression. 
Our  laws  must  be  remade  and  our  social  institu- 
tions reconstructed  so  that  each  individual  may 
enjoy  his  full  rights  and  come  into  possession  of 
his  full  share  of  the  world's  goods.  It  would  be 
a  shame  if  others  had  superfluous  wealth  while 
any  lacked  the  means  of  self-development  and 
self-culture. 

This  is  the  expansive  philosophy  of  the  age, 
the  centrifugal  motive  in  society,  moving  from 
within  outward.  But  the  ancient  Greeks  thought 
it  better  to  draw  from  without  inward,  to  ob- 
serve limits  and  measure,  to  strive  for  inward 
poise  and  harmony.  This  is  the  centripetal  mo- 
tive in  society,  the  unifying  and  integrating 
tendency. 

It  is  important  to  understand  the  meaning 
and  value  of  this  new  idea  of  the  full  and  exuber- 
ant life.  Its  value  we  all  recognize.  Its  limita- 
tions perhaps  we  do  not  realize.  To  many  in  the 
present  day  it  seems  like  the  very  word  of  prom- 


1 82  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

ise.  It  emancipates  us  —  so  we  think  —  from  all 
the  narrow  and  cramping  and  dwarfing  and  gall- 
ing restrictions  of  the  past  and  sets  us  free  to 
enjoy,  to  live,  to  breathe  deeply,  to  develop  as 
we  please.  It  emancipated  our  slaves.  It  is  eman- 
cipating our  women.  It  will  emancipate  our 
laborers.  If  there  is  any  one  idea  prevalent  now 
it  is  that  there  is  something  intrinsically  sound 
and  helpful  in  this  renouncing  of  old  authori- 
ties and  traditions  in  favor  of  an  individual  self- 
realization. 

This  modern  gospel  of  self-expression  takes  in- 
numerable forms.  With  Nietzsche  it  is  the  will  to 
power,  gained  through  tragic  suffering  and  pain. 
In  Christianity  it  is  the  triumphant  realization 
of  an  essentially  divine  and  spiritual  individual 
life  revealing  itself  in  the  typical  modern  ex- 
pansive virtues  —  faith,  hope,  and  charity.  In 
Bergson  it  appears  as  the  exaltation  of  instinct 
and  primal  creative  impulse.  In  Goethe  it  is  pic- 
tured as  salvation  through  successive  forms  of 
objective  experience.  In  Browning  it  is  seen  in 
the  wild  joy  of  living,  in  buoyant  faith,  opti- 
mism, and  love.  Even  in  the  modern  mystic  it  is 
no  longer  passive  resting  in  God's  encompassing 
arms,  but,  as  in  "Jean  Christophe,"  an  intoxica- 
tion with  the  madness  and  fury  of  living.  In  the 


OUR  CENTRIFUGAL  SOCIETY        183 

modern  psychological  novel  it  is  the  coming  into 
some  mysterious  larger  and  fuller  life  through 
the  conflict  of  motives  and  through  rich  subjec- 
tive experience.  In  the  modern  drama,  some- 
times nothing  but  the  experience  of  sin  itself  will 
bring  it  to  complete  fruition.  For  instance,  in 
Sudermann's  "Magda"  we  read: 

Magda.  "Pastor,  if  you  had  a  suspicion  of  what  life 
really  is  —  of  the  trial  of  strength,  of  the  taste  of 
guilt,  of  conquest,  and  of  pleasure  —  you  would  find 
yourself  very  comical  with  your  clerical  shop-talk."  i 

Heffterdingt.  "  I  have  had  to  stifle  much  of  my  na- 
ture. My  peace  is  the  peace  of  the  dead.  And  as  you 
stood  before  me  yesterday  in  your  freshness,  your 
natural  strength,  your  —  your  greatness,  I  said  to 
myself,  'This  is  what  you  might  have  been,  if  at  the 
right  moment  joy  had  entered  into  your  life.'" 

Magda  [in  a  whisper\.  "And  one  thing  more,  my 
friend  —  sin !  We  must  sin  if  we  wish  to  grow.  To  be- 
come greater  than  our  sin  is  worth  more  than  all  the 
purity  you  preach." 

In  all  these  forms  of  self-expression,  the  com- 
mon motive  is  the  centrifugal  motive,  marked 
by  a  craving  for  excitement,  impatience  with 
restraint,  a  longing  for  freedom  and  expansion, 
for  the  enhancement  of  life,  for  the  intensifica- 
tion of  consciousness. 

With  this  note  dominant  in  our  modern  life 
and  literature,  it  is  foolish  to  speak  of  social  de- 
cadence. Clearly,  the  world  is  not  suffering  from 


1 84  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

age  and  decadence.  It  has  the  virile  enthusiasm 
of  youth,  but  with  it  also  the  defects  of  youth,  an 
almost  childish  impetuosity  and  imprudence,  a 
tendency  toward  no  remoter  end  than  the  mere 
intensification  of  the  momentary  mood  of  joy 
and  strength. 

What  is  lacking  in  all  these  forms  of  self-ex- 
pression is  the  "inner  check,"  the  motive  of  re- 
straint and  reserve,  the  discipline  of  the  wise 
man  who  looks  beyond  the  present.1  In  Platonic 
phrase,  it  is  "justice,"  the  justice  which  the 
young  man  owes  to  his  coming  years,  the  jus- 
tice which  each  generation  owes  to  the  next,  the 
justice  which  each  individual  owes  to  society. 
Every  young  man  is  free  to  live  the  full  and 
abundant  life  up  to  the  point  of  not  infringing 
upon  the  strength  and  integrity  of  his  coming 
manhood.  Every  generation  is  free  to  live  the 
full  and  abundant  life  up  to  the  point  of  not  in- 
fringing upon  the  health  and  happiness  of  the 
next  generation.  Every  individual  is  free  to  live 
the  full  and  abundant  life  up  to  the  point  of  not 
infringing  upon  the  full  and  abundant  life  of  all 
the  others  in  the  group. 

But  the  limitations  come  quickly  and  fast. 
Therefore,  restraint  is  necessary;  and  will  be  in- 

1  Compare  Paul  Elmer  More,  Piatonism,  chap.  v. 


OUR  CENTRIFUGAL  SOCIETY        185 

creasingly  necessary.  In  fact  perhaps  the  vir- 
tues of  the  future  will  be  not  expansion,  not  self- 
expression,  but  self-control  and  limitation.  And 
can  we  be  sure  that  these  latter  may  not  be  the 
surer  road  to  peace  and  happiness  ?  Possibly  there 
is  a  higher  kind  of  self-realization  than  that 
found  through  self-expression.  Self-realization 
may  indeed  be  the  highest  goal  of  human  en- 
deavor, but  the  self  to  be  realized  may  be  the 
larger  self  of  our  collective  being,  including  suc- 
ceeding generations. 

This  is  nothing,  of  course,  save  the  age-old 
antagonism  between  liberty  and  justice.  It  is 
merely  the  habit  of  our  modern  thought  that  we 
have  become  so  enraptured  with  the  first  of  these 
that  we  have  overlooked  the  vital  importance  of 
the  second.  Of  course,  we  hear  a  great  deal  now 
about  justice,  but  it  is  social  justice  that  we  have 
in  mind,  that  glorious  social  state  in  which  each 
class  shall  enjoy  all  the  fullness  and  richness  of 
life  that  any  other  class  enjoys.  It  is  not  at  all 
that  kind  of  justice  which  Plato  taught  us,  con- 
sisting not  in  having,  but  in  doing  one's  full  share. 
Plato  understood,  as  all  the  older  teachers  did, 
that  the  centripetal  forces  in  society  must  bal- 
ance the  centrifugal  forces,  if  we  expect  stability 
in  our  social  life.  With  Plato  justice  was  the 


186  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

centripetal  integrating  principle.  It  was  realized 
when  every  class,  and  every  individual,  per- 
formed its  function  in  the  State  —  in  plain 
terms,  did  its  duty.  It  was  a  socialistic  State,  but 
evidently  the  fundamental  purpose  was  different 
from  that  of  our  modern  socialistic  State,  in 
which  the  attention  is  focused  more  upon  our 
rights  than  upon  our  duties. 

Socialism  as  it  exists  in  theory  to-day  involves, 
unfortunately,  no  radical  change  in  our  current 
spiritual  ideals.  It  accepts  without  much  ques- 
tion the  philosophy  of  the  full  and  abundant 
life,  and  proposes  usually  a  series  of  administra- 
tive and  industrial  changes,  which  it  is  hoped 
will  do  away  with  certain  evils  of  the  time,  such 
as  inequality  of  wealth  and  opportunity,  and  the 
selfish  exploitation  of  the  laboring  classes.  The 
emphasis  in  all  these  modern  movements  is  put 
upon  getting  one's  full  share  of  the  good  things 
of  the  world  —  food,  clothing,  wealth,  leisure, 
and  opportunity  —  to  the  end  always  of  com- 
fort, happiness,  self-expression,  self-realization, 
self-development.  It  is  an  attempt  to  satisfy 
human  wants,  rather  than  human  needs.  The 
man  of  to-day  wants  more  than  he  needs. 

The  ancient  socialistic  State,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  one  in  which  the  attention  was  fo- 


OUR  CENTRIFUGAL  SOCIETY        187 

cused,  not  on  the  individual  benefits  to  be  en- 
joyed, but  on  the  loyal  part  in  the  whole  under- 
taking, which  each  was  to  play  to  the  end  of 
having  a  healthy  and  permanent  society.  And 
they  well  understood  that  in  'the  long  run  the 
individual  found  his  greatest  happiness,  his 
highest  good,  when  he  fixed  his  attention  on  the 
permanence,  stability,  and  health  of  the  social 
group.  Only  in  this  way  can  successive  individ- 
uals find  a  fair  field  for  their  activities.  A  social 
group  in  which  the  human  units  focus  their  at- 
tention upon  getting  each  his  full  share  will  not 
bring  to  its  members  as  full  and  abundant  a  life 
as  a  group  in  which  the  attention  is  fixed  upon 
doing  each  his  full  part. 

Our  modern  conception  of  the  perfect  State 
is  one  in  which  certain  "evils,"  such  as  pov- 
erty, inequality,  intemperance,  clashes  between 
classes,  and  wars  between  States,  are  to  be 
absent.  Poverty  is  to  be  abolished,  not  by  self- 
denial  and  a  limitation  of  desires,  but  by  the 
increase  of  wealth  through  efficiency,  scientific 
management  and  new  mechanical  inventions, 
and  by  new  laws  regulating  the  production  and 
distribution  of  wealth.  War  between  nations  is 
to  be  abolished,  not  by  curbing  our  instincts  of 
pugnacity,  not  by  education  in  restraining  our 


188  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

expansive  desires,  but  by  some  new  political 
contrivance  such  as  a  League  of  Nations.  In- 
temperance is  to  be  done  away  with,  not  by 
making  men  strong  to  resist  temptation,  but  by 
an  act  of  legislation  removing  the  occasion  of 
temptation.  Disease  is  to  be  abolished,  not  by 
assisting  nature  in  providing  powers  of  resist- 
ance to  disease,  but  by  devices  to  protect  men 
from  the  causes  of  disease.  Inequality  between 
the  sexes  is  to  be  removed,  not  by  fostering  re- 
spect for  womanhood  and  motherhood,  but  by 
votes  for  women  and  political  privileges. 

All  these  institutions  are  no  doubt  of  value, 
but  we  are  planning  to  rely  too  much  upon  such 
social  and  political  machinery  and  we  under- 
estimate the  importance  of  physical  health, 
education,  and  the  sense  of  individual  responsi- 
bility. No  society  will  survive  without  the  in- 
tegrating motive  —  the  presence  of  justice  in 
the  Platonic  sense.  The  world  is  stirred  to-day 
by  powerful  centrifugal  forces.  Like  a  whirling 
wheel,  it  will  fly  into  pieces,  unless  it  is  held  to- 
gether by  equally  powerful  centripetal  forces. 
These  integrating  forces  are  measure,  self-con- 
trol, obedience,  respect  for  law  and  authority, 
restraint,  limitation  of  desires,  the  feeling  of 
obligation.  As  one  writer  has  said,  "We  have  a 


OUR  CENTRIFUGAL  SOCIETY        189 

superabundance  of  vital  energy;  what  we  need 
is  vital  control." 


We  have  had  occasion  to  see  how  the  Freud- 
ian psychology  enriches  our  conception  of  the 
springs  of  our  mental  life.  The  Freudian  ethics, 
too,  with  its  message  that  the  sublimation  and 
redirection  of  our  instincts  is  better  than  their 
suppression,  is  helpful  both  in  individual  and 
social  direction;  but  here  we  may  possibly  go 
astray,  and  this  ethical  system  may  be  per- 
verted to  allow  any  individual  caprice  to  run 
riot  because  of  the  danger  of  its  repression.  To 
repress  our  impulses  and  desires,  even  our  ego- 
istic and  anti-social  ones,  is  dangerous,  we  are 
told.  Why,  yes  —  dangerous  now  and  then  for 
the  individual,  but  singularly  wholesome  for 
society! 

In  preceding  chapters  I  have  emphasized  the 
fact  that  no  social  order  can  prevail  that  does 
not  allow  of  the  expression  of  our  healthy  in- 
stincts, that  does  not  provide  a  field  for  the 
exercise  of  all  our  powers.  But  when  our  egoistic 
impulses  clash  with  the  public  welfare,  then 
comes  the  necessity  for  the  "inner  check,"  for 
an  instantaneous  and  unconditional  exercise  of 
the  "veto  power  in  the  human  breast."  The 


i9o  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

Freudian  ethics  must  not  be  interpreted  as  the 
abandonment  of  "the  spirit  that  denies."  Who- 
ever so  understands  it  had  better  read  the  words 
of  a  certain  wise  teacher,  who  said,  "If  any  man 
will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  himself,  and 
take  up  his  cross  and  follow  me." 

Furthermore,  it  is  wholly  according  to  sound 
psychology,  this  prompt  and  uncompromising 
inhibition  of  anti-social  impulses.  It  is  natural, 
not  unnatural.1  Mankind  has  been  subject  to 
social  discipline  through  all  the  ages.  Certain 
instincts  he  has  had  to  curb  for  the  sake  of  social 
safety.  Social  unrest  is  not  going  to  increase 
because  of  social  discipline.  We  must  not  for- 
get that  among  the  instincts  there  is  also  the 
instinct  of  loyalty,  of  subordination  and  sub- 
mission.2 Never  was  it  more  imperative  to  keep 

1  "  Conscience  is  native  to  human  nature  in  the  sense  that  it  is 
within  the  capacity  of  human  nature  to  be  thus  self-conscious  in 
perceiving  and  controlling  its  own  cosmic  direction.  It  is  not  an 
instinct.  It  is  the  latest  and  finest  instrument  for  the  self-integra- 
tion of  instinct.  And  it  is  an  instrument  characteristically  human." 
(Italics  mine.)  (W.  E.  Hocking,  Human  Nature  and  Its  Remaking, 
p.  99.) 

2  Since  I  have  quoted  Carleton  H.  Parker  in  quite  another  con- 
nection, I  may  quote  him  also  here:  "In  contrast  to  leadership, 
man  longs  at  times  to  follow  the  fit  leader.  Soldiers  joy  in  a  firm 
captain,  workmen  quit  a  lax  though  philanthropic  employer,  in- 
structors thresh  under  an  inefficient  though  indulgent  department 
head.  Eternal  independence  and  its  necessary  strife  are  too  wearing 


OUR  CENTRIFUGAL  SOCIETY        191 

these  facts  in  mind  than  at  a  time  like  this  "  in 
which  the  traditional  inhibitions  are  constantly 
growing  weaker." 

Perhaps  the  first  lesson  which  this  twentieth 
century  of  ours  needs  to  learn  is  that  there  are 
values  higher  than  comfort  and  leisure  and 
material  goods,  and  other  virtues  which  we  need 
to  emphasize  more  than  faith,  hope,  and  charity. 
In  an  age  of  despair  and  depression  for  the 
masses  of  people  such  as  the  beginning  of  the 
Christian  era,  the  expansive,  outward  and  up- 
ward-looking Christian  virtues  were  like  a  great 
light  from  Heaven.  In  a  vital,  expansive,  centrif- 
ugal period  like  the  present  it  may  be  necessary 
for  us  to  return  to  the  integrating  and  harmo- 
nizing virtues  of  the  Greeks  —  wisdom,  temper- 
ance, moderation,  and  restraint;  and  it  may  be 
necessary  for  us  to  revise  our  list  of  highest 
values,  and  in  place  of  wealth,  leisure,  liberty, 
equality,  and  opportunity,  write  for  a  while 
conservation,  limitation,  integration.  The  great 
things  of  life,  wisdom  and  art  and  literature  and 

on  the  common  man  and  he  longs  for  peace  and  protection  in  the 
shadow  of  a  trust-inspiring  leader.  To  submit  under  right  condi- 
tions is  not  only  psychically  pleasant,  but  much  of  the  time  to  be 
leaderless  is  definitely  distressing."  (Carleton  H.  Parker,  "Motives 
in  Economic  Life,"  Proceedings,  American  Economic  Association, 
30th  Meeting,  December,  1917,  p.  225.) 


192  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

heroes,  have  sprung  from  periods  of  storm  and 
stress.  It  is  such  periods  that  have  given  birth 
to  opportunity;  but  it  was  not  opportunity  for 
self-development,  but  opportunity  for  self-con- 
trol, yes,  even  for  heroism  and  for  love. 

To  be  sure,  we  hear  much  about  love,  but  it 
has  come  to  take  the  forms  of  sympathy  and 
charity.  Of  both  of  these  we  have  a  great  and 
abundant  measure.  What  we  are  trying  to  do  in 
all  these  modern  forms  of  social  reconstruction 
is  to  hit  upon  some  social  or  political  device  by 
which  we  may  live  the  full  and  abundant  life 
and  allow  our  neighbor  to  do  the  same.  There 
never  was  so  much  world-wide  sympathy  for  the 
neighbor  who  does  not  live  the  full  and  exuberant 
life  as  there  is  now.  We  love  and  sympathize 
with  every  oppressed  class  and  every  down- 
trodden man.  We  are  taught  to  love  our  neigh- 
bor, and  we  have  learned  to  love  him  with  such 
intensity  that  we  allow  no  one  to  exploit  him 
but  ourselves.  As  Professor  Babbitt  says,  "Our 
twentieth-century  civilization  is  a  singular  mix- 
ture of  altruism  and  high  explosives."  We  love 
our  neighbor  and  we  wish  him  every  joy.  In  his 
need  we  shower  him  with  charitable  gifts.  If 
others  abuse  him,  we  are  ready  to  fight  for  him; 
but  our  conception  of  love  does  not  quite  extend 


OUR  CENTRIFUGAL  SOCIETY        193 

to  the  notion  of  limiting  our  own  desires  for 
our  neighbor's  good.  It  does  not  quite  suffice 
to  check  the  megalomania  of  our  capitalistic 
classes,  nor  persuade  them  voluntarily  to  bear 
their  just  proportion  of  public  taxes,  nor  teach 
them  willingly  to  share  their  profits  with  their 
workers.  It  does  not  quite  suffice  to  lead  our 
laboring  classes,  when  once  they  find  power  in 
their  hands,  to  use  this  power  in  accordance  with 
reason  and  moderation. 

It  is  owing  to  accidental  reasons  that  the 
necessity  for  restraint  and  limitation  has  not 
been  laid  upon  us  in  recent  times.  The  discovery 
of  America,  the  industrial  revolution,  the  Pa- 
cific frontier  —  all  these  have  opened  to  us  a 
new  world  which  has  allowed  the  human  spirit 
an  indefinite  expansion  foreign  to  its  long  his- 
tory. There  has  been  for  a  short  period  in  human 
history  little  need  of  the  "inner  check,"  and  it 
has  been  almost  forgotten. 

To  be  sure,  this  wild  display  of  centrifugal 
forces  has  brought  no  essentially  valuable  hu- 
man product,  no  great  literature  or  art,  no 
Grecian  temples,  no  Gothic  cathedrals,  no 
Shakespearean  drama;  nor  has  it  brought  peace 
among  men,  nor  physical  stamina  of  race,  nor 
freedom  from  vice  and  misery  and  crime,  nor 


194  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

justice,  nor  reverence.  In  the  midst  of  plenty,  it 
has  not  abolished  greed,  nor  graft,  nor  strife. 
But  these  defects  have  been  little  noticed,  and 
meanwhile  there  has  been  stirred  within  us  only 
a  restless  desire  for  still  more  expansion. 

Only  lately  have  the  first  signs  appeared  to 
teach  us  that  limitation  belongs  to  the  nature 
of  things  and  cannot  be  escaped.  In  the  crush- 
ing defeat  of  Germany,  the  first  emphatic  "No" 
was  spoken  to  this  cult  of  universal  expansion. 
The  whole  world  awoke  to  its  senses  and  recorded 
its  ancient  and  instinctive  protest  against  that 
ultimate  injustice  which  flows  from  the  theory 
of  limitless  expansion  in  the  case  of  nations,  but 
it  has  not  thought  of  applying  this  to  the  in- 
dividual. 

Our  little  world  is  getting  filled  up,  and  the 
need  for  the  practice  of  restraint  and  the  limita- 
tion of  our  desires  increases  yearly.  The  rapid 
growth  in  the  population  of  Europe  and  its  still 
more  rapid  increase  in  the  Americas,  makes  self- 
control  and  self-denial  increasingly  necessary  if 
social  order  is  not  to  give  way  to  anarchy. 

Nietzsche  was  well  aware  that  the  full  and 
exuberant  life  which  he  preached  involved  a 
"trans-valuation  of  all  values."  But  the  trans- 


OUR  CENTRIFUGAL  SOCIETY        195 

valuation  of  moral  values  is  a  hazardous  busi- 
ness. It  is  life  itself  which  has  determined  these 
values,  and  they  cannot  be  revoked  by  the  mere 
will  of  heralds  of  revolt.  The  values  which  they 
would  revalue  represent  the  residual  experience 
of  long  ages  of  human  life  and  society,  during 
which  mankind  has  discovered  that  there  are 
certain  rules  of  conduct  which  are  necessary  if 
men  will  live  in  social  relations  in  peace  and 
security.  The  trans-valuation  of  these  old  racial 
values  has  been  attempted  many  times  and 
always  something  unpleasant  happens.  These 
unpleasant  happenings  may  be  deferred  for 
many  years.  They  may  light  upon  one's  mother, 
one's  family,  one's  children.  They  may  affect 
society  or  posterity  —  but  they  happen. 

One  would  think  that  many  of  our  hasty 
writers  of  recent  fiction  and  drama  regard  our 
old  rules  of  conduct,  our  moral  codes,  as  the  arbi- 
trary pronouncements  of  some  external  author- 
ity, God  or  the  king  or  parents  or  the  Church. 
We  always  think  of  our  laws  as  being  "handed 
down,"  and  we  resent  having  our  laws  handed 
down.  We  want  to  make  them.  But  what  we  for- 
get is  that  we  have  made  them  and  that  it  has 
taken  centuries  —  ages  —  to  do  it. 

The  following,  for  instance,  was  taken  from  a 


196  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

page  of  current  fiction:  "The  individual  must 
be  free  from  conformity  and  (as  he  saw  it)  the 
attending  hypocrisy,  by  breaking  the  yoke  of 
the  home.  It  must  be  the  individual,  the  glad, 
free  individual,  the  will  to  live,  to  feel,  to  ex- 
press." In  actual  practice  such  an  individual 
might  be  free  —  but  he  would  not  be  glad,  at 
least  not  for  very  long.  Or  if  he  were  glad  in  his 
youth,  he  might  be  sorry  in  middle  life.  Or  if  he 
were  free  and  glad  all  the  time,  his  neighbor 
might  be  sorry.  Or  if  both  he  and  his  neighbor 
were  free  and  glad  all  the  time,  their  children 
might  be  sorry. 

What  the  prophets  of  the  full,  free,  and  abun- 
dant life  forget  is  the  unity  and  continuity  of  life, 
the  organic  unity  of  the  family,  of  society.  And 
even  when  we  have  learned  this  lesson,  we  have 
still  to  understand  the  organic  unity  of  this  gen- 
eration and  the  next.  The  hero  or  heroine  of 
modern  fiction  or  of  the  modern  drama  breaks 
the  sanctity  of  the  home  and  finds  the  larger 
freedom  —  discovers  a  great  "self-realization." 
Yes,  but  in  real  life  somebody  has  to  pay  the 
bill  —  perhaps  the  children  or  the  children's 
children.  Possibly  just  another  link  is  severed  of 
that  social  integration  which  is  necessary  for 
social  welfare  and  stability.  "  I  am  beginning  to 


OUR  CENTRIFUGAL  SOCIETY        197 

find  out,"  said  Byron,  "that  nothing  but  virtue 
will  do  in  this  damned  world."  x 

To  which,  of  course,  it  is  replied,  these  old 
conventions  we  have  now  outgrown.  We  live  in  a 
new  age,  under  new  conditions,  and  our  new  age 
must  have  new  rules  of  morality.  There  is  no 
absolute  moral  law.  Everything  moves,  flows, 
changes,  develops.  We  must  adapt  ourselves 
to  the  new  order. 

Yes,  moral  laws  change,  no  doubt;  but  our 
fundamental  moral  laws,  those  relating  to  jus- 
tice, integrity,  honesty,  veracity,  and  those  in- 
volving the  purity  of  the  family  and  obedience 
to  law,  change  exceedingly  slowly,  not  much 
faster  than  the  physical  and  mental  constitu- 
tion of  man  changes,  and  for  practical,  pres- 
ent-day purposes,  that  is  not  at  all.  It  is  easy 
for  us  to  understand  that  the  laws  of  thought 
as  expressed  in  our  logics  are  the  same  now  as 
in  the  days  of  Aristotle  —  but  when  inclina- 
tion leads  that  way,  it  is  easy  for  us  to  be- 
lieve that  the  laws  of  conduct  are  changeable. 
They  are,  however,  tolerably  safe  guides  to  ac- 
tion in  our  personal  life  and  our  social  relations. 
If  violated,  there  are  ways,  no  doubt,  to  escape 

1  Prothero's  Byron.  Letters  and  Journals,  vol.  I,  p.  272.  Quoted 
by  Perry. 


198  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

"punishment"  in  the  popular  sense,  but  no  way 
of  escaping  "consequences." 

For  the  individual,  in  all  concrete  cases  of  ac- 
tion, the  rule  given  us  by  Kant  is  sound  and 
wholesome  and  eminently  good :  So  act  that  thou 
couldst  wish  that  the  principle  of  thine  action 
should  become  a  universal  principle  of  action.  But 
when  a  critical  people,  not  satisfied  with  a  prag- 
matic precept,  demands  the  eternal  Why,  then 
we  must  begin  a  deeper  inquiry  concerning  the 
grounds  of  social  integration  and  solidarity.  In 
the  following  chapter  some  reference  will  be 
made  to  this  question. 


CHAPTER  VII 
SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE 

THE  application  of  psychological  principles 
to  the  problems  of  social  reconstruction 
seems  to  have  shown  us  that  the  standardized 
world  proposed  for  the  future,  in  which  effi- 
ciency, an  adequate  scale  of  living,  comforts  and 
conveniences,  regular  and  universal  work  and 
daily  leisure  for  self-development,  are  the  great 
ends  to  be  attained,  will  not  allay  social  unrest 
except  at  the  price  of  social  stagnation.  These 
are  not  the  things  that  men  really  want;  that  is, 
real  men.  What  they  want  is  life.  What  we  have 
to  do,  therefore,  in  social  reconstruction  is  to 
discover  a  social  order  in  which  the  totality  of 
human  interests  may  find  expression.  It  is  the 
exercise  of  their  powers  that  men  want.  Man  is  a 
being  who  strives,  not  primarily  one  who  eats 
and  sleeps  and  works.  What  he  wants  is  to  build 
something  —  a  house,  a  business,  a  reputation, 
a  fortune.  If  there  a*re  any  natural  rights,  the 
"right  to  achieve"  is  an  essential  one. 

This  "will  to  power"    is  psychologically  fun- 
damental in  man  as  a  behaving  organism.  But 


200  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

here  we  discover  that  no  one  absolutely  best 
form  of  government  or  social  order  can  be  or- 
dained for  north  and  south,  east  and  west,  an- 
cient and  modern.  In  the  northern  Occidental 
modern  man  the  spirit  of  energy  is  triumphant. 
The  "objective  significant  structures"  whose 
" appropriation"  satisfied  the  ancient  Greek  or 
the  early  Christian  saint  does  not  satisfy  the 
man  of  the  East  and  North  to-day.  He  must 
create,  initiate,  venture  and  adventure. 

"Der  Mann  muss  hinaus 
Ins  feindliche  Leben, 
Muss  wirken  und  streben 
Und  pflanzen  und  schaffen, 
Erlisten,  erraffen, 
Muss  wetten  und  wagen, 
Das  Gluck  zu  erjagen."  l 

For  this  energetic  spirit  of  our  age,  our  free 
democratic  institutions  of  America  furnish,  as 
we  have  seen,  the  best  possible  field  for  endeavor. 
And  if  we  are  still  disheartened  because  any  of 
our  people  lack  many  opportunities,  or  because 
of  the  poverty  and  want  in  our  congested  cities 
and  great  industrial  centers,  we  must  not  be  de- 
ceived by  the  illusion  that  some  other  wholly 
different  social  or  political  system  could  be  de- 

1  Schiller,  Das  Lied  von  der  Glocke. 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  201 

vised  in  which  a  larger  proportion  of  our  one 
hundred  million  people  would  be  prosperous  and 
happy.  Utopianists  picture  such  conditions,  but 
the  men  and  women  with  whom  in  fancy  they 
people  their  ideal  communities  are  made  to 
order  like  the  communities  themselves.  Our  re- 
cent army  draft  drew  out  from  every  corner  of 
our  land  the  real  men  who  constitute  society, 
many  strong  and  brave,  some  physically  defi- 
cient, some  illiterate,  some  mentally  and  mor- 
ally defective.  That  with  the  actual  material 
which  we  have,  the  early  twentieth  century 
should  attain  so  high  and  unprecedented  a  de- 
gree of  comfort  and  prosperity  will  perhaps  be 
explained  by  the  historian  of  the  future  as  due 
to  the  immediate  and  temporary  effects  of  the 
industrial  revolution,  together  with  the  vast  re- 
sources of  a  new  and  unexploited  land. 

There  are,  to  be  sure,  evils  enough,  even  in  our 
America;  and  before  these  words  are  printed  it  is 
altogether  possible  that  they  will  increase.  The 
war  will  have  to  be  paid  for.  But  these  evils  are 
not  inherent  in  our  social  and  political  system, 
and  the  people  have  only  to  will  the  deed  and 
they  can  be  cured  so  far  as  laws  and  institutions 
can  cure  them;  for  it  is  just  this  that  our  republi- 
can form  of  government  permits;  it  is  for  this 


202  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

that  democracy  exists.  But  the  real  cure  lies 
deeper;  it  lies  in  morals  and  education  and  de- 
pends a  good  deal  on  the  physical  stock  we  have 
to  start  with. 

But  now  there  is  one  other  important  matter 
in  which  psychology  may  make  some  contribu- 
tion to  social  reconstruction.  It  is  the  matter  of 
social  integration  touched  upon  in  the  preceding 
chapter.  A  good  social  order  must  be  one  which 
shall  provide  not  only  a  field  in  which  man's 
totality  of  interests  may  find  expression,  but  it 
must  also  offer  a  degree  of  social  integration  that 
shall  secure  the  presence  of  justice  within  the 
State,  justice  in  the  Platonic  sense,  where  each 
individual  does  and  has  that  which  belongs  to 
him  to  do  and  to  have,  and  does  not  do  or  have 
what  belongs  to  another  to  do  and  have;  and 
this  "other"  refers  not  merely  to  one's  neighbor 
and  fellow  citizen,  but  to  those  who  are  to  fol- 
low in  the  order  of  time.  Social  integration  in- 
volves, therefore,  a  degree  of  social  stability  and 
permanence. 

In  this  brief  chapter  I  have  no  further  thought 
than  to  suggest  a  possible  better  method  of  ap- 
proach to  this  ancient  problem  than  the  more 
usual  ones.  It  is  certainly  strange  that  in  our 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  203 

popular  social-reconstruction  movements  this 
most  basal  matter  receives  so  little  attention. 
We  are  so  wholly  occupied  with  securing  imme- 
diate justice  to  all  classes  in  the  other  sense  of  the 
word  "justice"  —  where  each  one  shall  have  his 
share  of  the  goods  and  his  share  of  the  opportu- 
nities —  that  we  give  little  attention  to  this  older 
and  larger  problem. 

The  critical  importance  of  such  questions  as 
wars  between  nations,  the  equitable  distribu- 
tion of  wealth  and  opportunity,  political  justice 
toward  our  women,  intemperance,  etc.,  has 
blinded  us  to  other  problems  which  affect  the 
very  existence  of  society;  namely,  social  disci- 
pline and  social  stability,  and  physical  and  racial 
health.  And  since  the  whole  world  at  present  is 
in  a  very  radical  and  iconoclastic  mood,  halting 
at  no  thoroughgoing  change  in  political  and  so- 
cial institutions,  it  has  become  vital  that  we  shall 
turn  our  thoughts  to  these  other  problems. 

What  are  to  be  the  elements  of  order,  the  cen- 
tripetal forces  in  the  new  society?  The  forces 
working  toward  chaos  and  anarchy  are  many. 
Any  newspaper  page  reveals  them.  The  intense 
individualism  inherent  in  all  modern  thought, 
the  disintegration  of  States  and  of  old  estab- 
lished   political    programmes,    the    constantly 


2o4  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

growing  lack  of  respect  and  reverence  for  old  in- 
stitutions —  in  fact  the  suspicion  of  anything 
that  is  old  and  established  —  the  critical  and 
cynical  tendencies  of  some  of  our  modern  fiction 
and  the  modern  drama,  the  loss  of  the  religious 
faith  with  which  our  moral  sanctions  have  been 
closely  associated,  and  the  pragmatic  philoso- 
phies of  all  kinds  that  rule  in  the  present  — 
these  are  some  of  the  forces  working  against 
social  integration. 

This  is  not  to  say  that  any  of  the  old  ideas  or 
the  old  institutions  are  perfect  or  holy,  or  even 
good.  It  is  only  that  the  obedience  to  laws,  the 
restraint  and  self-control  which  are  necessary  for 
social  order,  have  been  in  the  human  brain  asso- 
ciated with  these  things.  A  wholly  new  set  of 
motives  for  social  order  is  perhaps  conceivable, 
resting  upon  none  of  these  old  institutions;  but 
the  human  brain  changes  slowly,  and  an  entire 
civilization  might  collapse  in  the  process  of  a 
crude  and  reckless  attempt  at  readjustment. 

The  disintegrating  forces  in  society  are  many, 
and  apparently  increasing.  It  is  necessary,  if  our 
civilization  is  to  be  saved,  to  turn  our  attention 
very  seriously,  and  at  once,  to  the  integrating 
forces,  to  the  forces  which  look  to  social  stabil- 
ity, to  law  and  order. 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  205 

In  the  past  there  have  been  three  great  insti- 
tutions which  have  acted  as  powerful  forces  of 
integration  —  the  State,  the  Church,  and  the 
Family  —  the  integrating  power  of  these  insti- 
tutions depending  not  merely  on  external  sanc- 
tions, but  on  the  powerful  motive  of  personal 
loyalty  and  allegiance.  Since  in  the  popular  social 
reform  movements  of  the  day  no  emphasis  is 
placed  upon  the  Church  and  the  Family  as  inte- 
grating social  forces,  and  since  the  implication  is 
that  internationalism  is  to  take  the  place  of 
nationalism,  it  becomes  of  the  gravest  impor- 
tance to  inquire  what  is  to  take  the  place  of  these 
ancient  and  successful  sources  of  discipline. 

In  particular  we  must  inquire  what  is  to  take 
the  place  of  nationalism  in  the  new  order.  When 
the  State  is  small  and  its  emblems  are  ever 
present  to  the  senses,  or  when  it  is  unified  by  art 
and  religion,  as  in  ancient  Athens,  or  when  the 
very  existence  of  the  State  is  threatened  by  rival 
States,  as  in  the  recent  war,  then  social  integra- 
tion within  the  State  is  relatively  perfect.  Then 
the  group  spirit,  the  community  spirit,  keeps  the 
group  itself  a  healthy  organic  unit,  the  members 
of  the  group  all  loyally,  willingly,  eagerly  per- 
forming severally  their  proper  functions.  Then 
justice   prevails    within    the    group,    laws    are 


206  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

obeyed  and  order  is  preserved.  A  League  of  Na- 
tions, to  prevent  that  form  of  social  suicide 
which  a  modern  war  has  become,  seems,  as  it 
truly  is,  a  great  step  forward  in  human  progress, 
but  in  the  long  history  of  human  development 
social  integration  and  social  order  within  a  State 
have  depended  to  a  large  extent  on  the  menace 
of  danger  to  the  State  from  without.  When  that 
menace  shall  be  withdrawn,  social  integration 
within  each  State  will  be  increasingly  difficult. 

The  spirit  of  nationalism  at  the  moment,  to 
be  sure,  burns  brightly;  but  the  whole  trend  of 
the  time  is  toward  internationalism,  due  to  the 
community  of  world  interests  in  international 
labor  movements,  international  commerce,  bank- 
ing, science,  and  education. 

In  our  new  society,  therefore,  as  it  is  pictured 
by  our  social  reformers,  it  would  appear  that 
loyalty,  neither  to  the  State  nor  to  the  Church 
nor  to  the  Family,  is  going  to  be  a  powerful  inte- 
grating force.  The  vital  things  now  are  labor 
unions,  workingmen's  councils,  women's  feder- 
ated clubs,  manufacturers'  unions,  trusts  and 
combinations,  and  countless  other  self-protective 
organizations  and  combinations  of  every  sort. 
The  old  loyalty  to  the  State  and  the  Church  and 
the  Family  has  been  in  large  measure  replaced 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  207 

by  loyalty  to  these  countless  social  groups;  but 
unfortunately  there  is  no  promise  that  loyalty 
to  these  groups  is  going  to  be  in  any  sense  a  prin- 
ciple of  social  integration.  On  the  contrary,  it 
appears  often  to  be  a  source  of  social  strife. 

What,  then,  do  our  social  reformers  propose 
as  an  integrating  principle  in  the  new  society? 
We  hear  a  great  deal  about  cooperation;  it  is,  I 
believe,  to  take  the  place  of  competition.  "The 
good  of  all  is  to  be  the  aim  of  all."  This  team- 
work, this  morale,  this  human  brotherhood, 
surely  is  an  end  devoutly  to  be  wished.  But  the 
psychologist,  like  any  other  scientist,  deals  with 
facts  and  puts  his  theories  to  the  test  of  facts, 
and  he  wants  to  know  under  what  conditions 
this  new  concept — the  good  of  all  to  be  the  aim 
of  all  —  can  be  realized.  Under  the  inspiration 
or  frenzy  of  a  great  war  you  can  for  a  short  time 
mobilize  a  nation  of  a  hundred  million  people 
for  team-work,  and,  barring  the  thousands  of 
profiteers  who  will  spring  up  even  during  the 
war,  the  good  of  all  will  become  the  aim  of  all 
while  the  war  lasts,  if  it  does  not  last  too  long. 
But  the  question  is  under  what  other  conditions 
than  of  war  can  a  nation  be  mobilized  in  this 
way,  and  with  how  large  a  nation  can  it  be  done, 


208  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

and  for  how  long.  Judging  from  our  own  experi- 
ence since  the  war,  in  the  light  of  the  almost  uni- 
versal profiteering,  price-boosting,  bank-robbing, 
etc.,  it  would  appear  that  it  is  a  slightly  differ- 
ent motto  that  we  have  adopted:  namely,  The 
goods  of  all  shall  be  the  aim  of  all. 

The  assumption  is  very  common  in  our  social- 
reconstruction  writings  that  economic  injustice 
is  the  cause  of  social  wrong-doing.  When  once 
you  grant  to  all  men  an  adequate  share  of  the 
world's  goods  and  complete  opportunity  for  the 
fullness  and  richness  of  life,  why,  then,  we  are 
told,  peace  and  brotherhood  will  reign  and  the 
good  of  all  will  be  the  aim  of  all.  But  the  profit- 
eers and  the  price-boosters  and  the  bubble-pro- 
moters and  the  bank-robbers  are  not  men  suffer- 
ing under  the  curse  of  wage  slavery;  they  are 
persons  with  criminal  tendencies,  or,  at  the  best, 
anti-social  motives.  It  is  a  case  of  defective  brain 
patterns,  not  defective  economic  conditions; 
and  these  anti-social  brain  patterns  will  be  found 
pretty  evenly  distributed  whether  in  a  group  of 
financiers  sitting  around  a  table  or  a  company  of 
laborers  pouring  from  a  factory.  Perhaps  some 
of  the  latter  lack  "  opportunity "  for  predatory 
practices;  but  the  potential  ratios  will  be  much 
the  same.  It  is  not  a  question  of  classes. 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  209 

Our  problem,  then,  is  a  problem  of  mobilizing 
a  nation  for  team-work.  This  is  the  problem  for 
any  form  of  collectivism  to  solve,  whether  it 
be  the  moderate  collectivism  which  we  have  at 
present  or  the  extreme  collectivism  which  is 
planned  for  the  future;  and  in  solving  it  we  must 
keep  constantly  in  mind  the  material  we  have  to 
work  with.  It  is  easy  to  point  out,  as  do  such 
writers  as  Mr.  L.  T.  Hobhouse,  that  social  prog- 
ress lies  in  the  direction  of  extending  the  "area 
of  the  common  good"  from  narrow  social  groups 
where  we  have  seen  it  exhibited,  such  as  the 
family  or  the  clan,  to  the  broader  social  groups 
such  as  society  and  humanity.  But  they  overlook 
the  fact  that  in  these  narrow  groups  there  are 
powerful  motives  for  "mutual  service"  which 
do  not  apply  to  the  larger  groups. 

"The  true  line  of  social  progress,"  says  Mr. 
Hobhouse,  is  "the  development  of  that  rational 
organization  of  life  in  which  men  freely  recog- 
nize their  interdependence,  and  the  best  life  for 
each  is  understood  to  be  that  which  is  best  for 
those  around  him."  1 

This,  of  course,  is  a  wise  and  virtuous  remark, 
but  we  have  to  inquire  how  men  are  brought  to 
recognize  this  interdependence  in  the  smaller 

1  International  Journal  of  Ethics,  vol.  vm,  p.  150. 


210  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

groups  and  whether  it  will  apply  to  the  larger 
groups.  The  football  team  may  be  taken  as  an 
illustration.  Here  we  have  integration,  solidar- 
ity, discipline,  obedience,  team-work,  morale  — 
all  in  perfection.  But  it  is  because  there  is  an 
immediate  glowing  end  for  which  the  discipline 
is  obviously  and  patently  indispensable,  and  the 
end  is  in  the  immediate  future.  So  it  is  with  the 
small  political  group  threatened  by  war  with  a 
visible  rival  group;  so  it  is  with  the  larger  group 
in  time  of  war.  But  with  the  larger  group  in 
time  of  peace  the  glowing  end  is  not  there.  A 
civilization  in  which  discipline,  virtue,  and  obe- 
dience fail  will  no  doubt  go  down  after  some 
generations;  but  what  cares  the  individual  for 
that?  Even  personal  health  and  welfare,  if  they 
are  just  a  few  years  in  the  future,  are  quite  in- 
sufficient as  motives  in  a  young  man's  life  if 
they  come  in  conflict  with  strong  passion  or 
desire.  It  is  hardly  likely  that  our  egoistic  im- 
pulses are  going  to  be  effectively  checked  by 
the  abstract  idea  of  the  common  good,  even 
of  the  present  generation,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
next. 

A  moralist  might  write  a  book  on  ethics  and 
prove  conclusively  that  self-realization  is  found 
in  the  common  good,  in  the  perfection  of  the 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  211 

larger  social  self,  in  social  service,  duty,  etc., 
and  if  he  could  take  every  one  of  our  hundred 
million  people  into  a  lecture-room  he  could  no 
doubt  demonstrate  all  this  to  them  or  to  those 
capable  of  following  a  line  of  argument.  But  in 
the  first  place,  judging  from  the  statistics  of  il- 
literacy in  our  drafted  army,  twenty-five  per 
cent  even  of  our  mature  young  men  would  not 
be  able  to  follow  the  line  of  argument;  another 
twenty-five  per  cent,  including  our  defective 
and  delinquent  classes,  would  be  morally  unable 
to  modify  their  conduct  in  reference  to  social 
motives;  and  the  majority  of  the  remaining  fifty 
per  cent  would  still  pursue  their  accustomed 
mode  of  response  to  their  accustomed  stimuli. 
Groups  of  hand-picked  men,  the  intellectual 
elite,  have  tried  communistic  and  collectiv- 
istic  experiments,  as  we  have  heard,  now  and 
then:  but  they  have  usually  failed,  and  when 
they  have  not  failed,  it  has  been  because  they 
have  been  under  the  constant  direction  of  a 
few  shrewd  and  efficient  leaders.  In  all  such 
experiments  the  unexpected  cranky  behavior 
of  these  chosen  spirits  has  been  the  cause  of 
failure. 

So  we  come  back  to  our  original  question.  In 


212  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

the  society  of  the  future  what  are  to  be  the 
sources  of  integration,  of  social  solidarity,  of 
that  spirit  of  cooperation,  that  team-work,  that 
discipline,  which  distinguishes  the  social  group 
from  a  mob,  which  is  necessary  for  such  law 
and  order  as  will  make  possible  the  enjoyment 
of  the  things  that  we  wish  to  enjoy,  such  as 
trade,  commerce,  the  cultivation  of  our  fields, 
schools,  libraries,  peaceful  holidays,  and  which 
will  make  society  a  field  for  our  human  activi- 
ties, thought,  art,  constructive  work,  and  whole- 
some play?  To  some  of  our  more  radical  thinkers 
the  expression  "law  and  order"  is  repellent  be- 
cause they  have  come  to  associate  law  and  order 
with  the  miscarriage  of  justice;  but  nevertheless 
when  they  picture  in  their  minds  a  reconstructed 
society  of  the  future,  they  always  think  of  it  as 
having  order  in  some  way,  imagining  very  likely 
that  order  will  be  spontaneous;  our  new  society 
will  be  a  kind  of  love  feast. 

It  is  because  in  our  whirling  and  shifting  mod- 
ern world  this  question  of  social  discipline  is  so 
difficult  to  answer  that  many  are  now  predicting 
the  downfall  of  our  civilization. 

In  dealing  with  such  a  problem  as  this,  his- 
tory and  psychology  would  seem  to  be  our  only 
guides,  safe  or  unsafe.  Germany,  for  instance, 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  213 

succeeded  for  many  years  in  mobilizing  a  great 
people  by  means  of  "  aggressive  gregariousness."  * 
A  great  idea,  Weltmacht,  and  a  spectacular  leader 
were  all  that  was  necessary.  During  many  hun- 
dred years  the  Church  in  the  Middle  Ages  mo- 
bilized nearly  the  whole  of  Europe  by  the  sym- 
bol of  the  cross.  For  some  centuries,  longer  ago, 
Rome  mobilized  the  whole  world  after  a  fashion 
by  brute  force.  But  the  hope  is  dim  for  any  one 
who  would  now  propose  nothing  but  a  strong 
central  government  and  the  policeman's  club. 
We  may  go  back  to  the  head-breaking  method, 
but  if  we  do,  it  will  be  only  when  revolution  and 
anarchy  have  reduced  us  to  despair  and  have 
destroyed  all  other  hope. 

Political  groups  from  time  immemorial  have 
been  mobilized  by  the  constant  menace  of  dan- 
ger from  outside  the  group.  The  members  of  the 
group  must  present  a  solid  front  to  the  enemy; 
hence  harmony,  discipline,  obedience  to  law, 
rule  within.  When  the  external  menace  dis- 
appears, internal  discipline  is  relaxed,  and  dis- 
integration begins.  Church  or  State,  then,  it 
would  appear  we  must  have.  The  modern  Church 
is  doing  a  great  work  in  its  chosen  field  of  serv- 

1  Compare  the  luminous  treatment  of  this  subject  by  W.  Trot- 
ter, Instincts  of  the  Herd  in  Peace  and  War,  pp.  166  ff. 


2i4  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

ice,  but  its  control  upon  the  millions  is  lessening. 
Can  the  modern  State  command  the  allegiance 
necessary  for  social  integration?  Whether  such 
movements  as  the  League  of  Nations  can  har- 
monize conflicting  group  interests,  time  alone 
can  tell;  but  if  so,  then  we  have  lost  that  ancient 
and  powerful  motive  for  internal  morale  which 
the  constant  menace  of  war  has  provided;  if  not, 
then  we  face  the  ruin  which  modern  warfare 
brings  in  its  train. 

It  is  curious  how  oblivious  to  these  historical 
conditions  of  discipline  our  social  reformers  are. 
They  seem  to  think  that  if  their  particular  re- 
forms could  be  carried  out,  then  the  same 
morale  would  exist  in  society  as  a  whole  that 
now  exists  within  the  segregated  reforming 
group.  Within  these  groups  we  hear  a  great  deal 
of  "tireless  persistency,"  "a  great  sustaining 
faith,"  "voluntary  gifts  of  hard-earned  money," 
"a  self-sacrificing  devotion  to  the  cause."  What 
these  reformers  forget  is  that  the  magnificent 
morale  which  they  experience  within  their  va- 
rious organizations  is  merely  an  instance  of 
"aggressive  gregariousness,"  which,  in  the  na- 
ture of  the  case,  will  be  lost  when  the  cause  is 
won;  but  they  innocently  carry  over  this  morale 
to  the  whole  reorganized  society.  Even  such  a 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  215 

writer  as  Mr.  Trotter,  who  has  no  special  cause 
to  promote,  believes  that  a  third  type  of  so- 
ciety 1  is  possible,  namely,  that  of  "socialized 
gregariousness,"  of  which  England  is  an  example, 
where,  after  the  manner  of  the  bee  and  the  ant, 
some  mystic  power  of  integration  brings  unity 
and  harmony.  But  the  morale  of  the  bees  and 
the  ants  is  merely  a  case  of  instinct.  Nature  has 
told  them  to  work  in  harmony  or  perish,  and 
those  who  did  not  have  perished,  and  there  is  no 
evidence  that  the  English  or  any  other  people 
possess  such  an  instinct.  Social  integration  has 
been  gained  in  other  ways. 

It  is  useless  to  mention  in  this  connection  the 
various  sources  of  social  integration  enumerated 
by  the  sociologists,  such  as  public  opinion,  law, 
education,  social  suggestion,  religion,  etc.,2  and 
say  that  we  shall  have  all  of  these  in  the  future 
as  we  have  in  the  past;  for  it  should  be  remem- 
bered that  our  changing  social  order  renders  the 
old  traditional  means  of  control  of  uncertain 
value  and  in  any  case  they  all  imply  either  some 
standard  of  order  and  morality,  which  the  State 

1  The  other  two  being  the  aggressively  (lupine)  and  the  pro- 
tectively gregarious  societies.  See  op.  cit.,  p.  204  et  al. 

2  See  the  brilliant  treatment  of  this  subject  by  Professor  E.  A. 
Ross  in  his  Social  Control.  In  the  brief  concluding  chapters  of  Pro- 
fessor Ross's  book  will  be  found  material  for  profound  reflection. 


216  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

or  the  Church  or  public  opinion  are  to  perpet- 
uate, or  else  they  imply  the  presence  of  far- 
seeing  leaders  who  shall  direct  and  control  the 
lives  of  the  people.  In  other  words,  these  means 
of  social  control  are  for  the  benefit  of  wayward 
individuals;  but  the  attitude  of  the  modern  man 
is  not  such  as  to  make  him  submissive  to  either 
of  these  authorities.  He  has  been  "emancipated " 
by  the  " liberators "  and  the  "heralds  of  revolt" 
from  any  kind  of  authority.  Tradition,  conven- 
tion, morality,  even  law  and  order,  are  suspect 
to  him.  Institutions  are  not  sacred,  government 
is  a  source  of  irritation.  For  such  a  person  even 
history  has  no  lessons.1 

It  is  clear,  therefore,  that  in  our  modern  demo- 
cratic society  we  cannot  rely  very  much  on  the 
traditional  means  of  control  which  textbooks 
on  sociology  enumerate  and  classify  so  reli- 
giously. The  great  social  problem  of  the  near 
future  is  not  the  industrial  problem,  nor  the 
problem  of  capital  and  labor,  nor  of  socialism 
versus  individualism,  nor  of  progress;  it  is  the 
problem  of  social  discipline.  As  wars  diminish  in 
frequency,  as  nations  become  large  and  their 
populations  mixed,  as  the  sense  of  freedom  and 

1  A  popular  hero,  much  admired  for  his  "success,"  is  reported  to 
have  said,  "History  is  bunk." 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  217 

the  lack  of  individual  responsibility  increase, 
the  question  of  social  stability  looms  up  as  the 
great  problem  of  the  age. 

We  are  told  that  in  primitive  societies  children 
do  not  need  to  be  punished  by  their  parents. 
Social  life  is  too  precarious  in  these  commu- 
nities to  waste  time  and  strength  on  internal  dis- 
sensions; but  in  our  civilized  society  children 
have  to  be  disciplined  and  our  university  stu- 
dents have  to  be  chaperoned.  The  latter  seem 
naively  to  think  that  any  excess,  as  for  instance 
in  dancing,  is  permissible  provided  only  it  in- 
fringes no  university  rule.  In  society  at  large  it  is 
apparently  only  the  stern,  restraining  hand  of 
the  law  which  places  any  limit  on  the  amount  of 
profiteering,  smuggling,  selling  worthless  stocks, 
automobile  stealing,1  and  predatory  practices  of 
all  kinds.  The  sense  of  individual  responsibility 
is  lacking.2  It  becomes  thus  a  serious  question 
to  what  extent  and  for  how  long  social  order  can 
be  maintained  merely  by  external  sanctions;  and 


1  It  is  estimated  by  a  prominent  automobile  journal  that  fully 
one  tenth  of  the  cars  manufactured  annually  fall  a  prey  to  thieves, 

2  This  lack  of  individual  responsibility  is  shown  in  the  fact  that 
the  kind  of  dancing  that  is  practiced  in  some  of  our  homes  and  even 
in  some  of  our  college  dances  is  not  permitted  in  our  city  dance 
halls.  Those  trying  it  are  put  out.  When  it  requires  a  policeman's 
club  to  keep  us  from  indecent  dancing,  it  is  time  for  pessimism. 


218  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

the  problem  becomes  much  more  acute  when 
one  raises  the  further  question  how  long  and  for 
what  reason  the  law  makers  themselves  will 
have  the  vision  and  the  sense  of  right  necessary 
to  make  and  enforce  these  laws.  In  a  democracy 
this  difficulty  appears  in  its  most  serious  form. 
Can  discipline  be  maintained  under  a  union 
of  democracy  and  socialism  ? x  The  tendency  in 
our  modern  life  is  toward  the  constant  widen- 
ing of  the  functions  of  government.  The  sense 
of  individual  responsibility  becomes  less,  the 
function  of  the  group  becomes  greater.  The  life 
of  the  individual  is  supervised  and  regulated  to 
the  minutest  degree:  he  is  told  what  he  may 
drink  and  what  not  drink;  how  much  sugar  he 
may  buy  and  not  buy;  his  food  is  inspected  and 
its  distribution  controlled;  his  house  is  examined 
and  its  structure  regulated  by  law;  his  business 
is  supervised,  his  income  scrutinized  and  con- 
trolled, and  so  on  through  the  familiar  list  of  the 
interferences  of  organized  society  with  the  in- 
dividual's life.  And  all  of  this  is  made  necessary 
by  our  modern  conditions  and  in  the  end  really 
increases  the  liberty  of  each  man.  But  the  reason 
it  is  necessary  and  the  reason  that  it  adds  to  the 

1  Compare  L.  P.  Jacks,  "Democracy  and  Discipline,"  Hibbert 
Journal,  vol.  xi,  p.  I. 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  219 

sum  total  of  freedom  is  because  of  the  absence 
of  the  veto  power  in  the  breast  of  the  individual. 
But  meanwhile  the  number  of  our  rules,  regu- 
lations, and  laws  increases  daily.  As  the  func- 
tions of  the  State  increase,  taking  over  perhaps 
our  transportation  systems  and  our  natural  mo- 
nopolies —  not  to  speak  of  the  whole  machinery 
of  production  —  the  strain  upon  society  in  its 
corporate  aspect  becomes  greater.  In  a  democ- 
racy the  people  make  the  laws  themselves. 
The  problem  of  the  future  thus  becomes  this: 
Will  the  people  obey  all  the  laws  which  they 
themselves  make,  and  if  so,  why?  The  notion 
that  they  will  obey  them  because  they  have 
made  them  is  naive  and  innocent  of  psychologic 
insight.  Sometimes  the  people  will  obey  the  laws 
from  habit,  sometimes  from  loyalty  to  the  king 
or  emperor,  sometimes  out  of  reverence  for  the 
priest,  the  Virgin,  the  Pope,  or  the  Bible,  or 
from  the  love  of  God ;  but  none  of  these  motives 
seem  to  promise  much  for  our  immediate  future. 
Professor  Ross,  in  his  book  "Sin  and  Society," 
has  shown  us  how  our  new  industrial  and  com- 
mercial life  has  given  birth  to  a  whole  new 
brood  of  very  lively  sins.  A  threatening  host  of 
silk-hat  sinners  and  syndicate  sinners  and  big 
business   sinners   and   corporation   sinners  has 


220  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

descended  upon  us,  while  all  the  old-fashioned 
sins  mentioned  in  the  Decalogue  are  as  interest- 
ing as  ever. 

What  are  to  be  the  forces  which  are  to  control 
these  sinners  in  our  future  society?  The  making 
of  endless  new  laws,  jail  sentences  instead  of 
fines,  etc.,  etc.  —  to  depend  upon  all  this  sort  of 
thing  presents  a  discouraging  outlook.  Team- 
work and  morale  are  not  gained  in  this  way. 
They  depend  upon  organic  unity  and  they  de- 
pend upon  fellow-feeling  and  sympathy. 

The  conditions  of  team-work  within  a  group 
appear  to  be  that  the  group  as  a  whole  is  about 
to  prey  upon  another  group,  or  is  in  danger 
of  being  preyed  upon  by  another  group,  or  is 
united  in  a  common  devotion  to  some  great 
cause  or  some  religious  idea  or  some  national 
symbol  or  some  spectacular  leader.  Loyalty 
there  must  be  to  something  above  or  beyond  or 
outside  the  mere  collective  body.  These  are  the 
things  which  bring  about  that  sympathy  and 
fellow-feeling  which  are  the  conditions  of  soli- 
darity. 

Human  beings  are  so  constituted  that  they 
need  a  cause  to  work  for.  They  need  something 
to  look  up  to,  something  to  be  loyal  to,  some 
king  or  queen,  some  leader,  some  prophet,  some 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  221 

Napoleon,  or  Peter  the  Hermit,  to  follow,  some 
society  or  concrete  organization,  something 
rather  near  and  striking,  and,  still  better,  some- 
thing rather  new.  A  religion  like  the  Christian 
religion  containing  great  vital,  soul-compelling 
truths  will  when  it  is  new  capture  the  world, 
overturn  an  empire,  reform  the  lives  and  save 
the  souls  of  millions.  In  our  plans  for  social  re- 
organization we  have  assumed  too  readily  that 
the  unit  of  society  is  an  industrial  worker  and 
we  have  forgotten  that  he  is  also  a  knight 
"Who  in  many  climes,  without  avail, 
Has  spent  his  life  for  the  Holy  Grail." 

Boys  of  a  certain  age  listen  with  indifference 
to  the  advice  and  commands  of  their  father,  but 
they  will  follow  with  great  loyalty  the  unwritten 
laws  of  their  gang.  College  students  look  with 
suspicion  sometimes  upon  the  wisdom  of  their 
parents,  but  the  discipline  of  their  fraternity 
they  submit  to  with  enthusiasm.  The  daughter 
sniffs  at  the  admonitions  of  her  mother,  but  is 
wholly  loyal  to  the  fashions  of  the  day  or  the 
rules  of  her  set.  The  loyalty  of  the  industrial 
worker  to  his  labor  organization  is  sometimes 
greater,  I  fear,  than  to  his  country.  And  fra- 
ternal societies  of  all  kinds  have  little  trouble 
with  the  matter  of  discipline. 


222  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

The  problem  would  seem  to  be  to  get  the 
same  loyalty,  devotion,  and  enthusiasm  in  the 
larger  group  —  that  is,  the  State,  society,  hu- 
manity —  that  we  get  so  easily  in  the  smaller 
group.  But  the  very  psychological  conditions 
which  make  this  possible  in  the  smaller  groups 
are  absent  in  the  larger  groups,  except  in  the 
small  State  or  the  large  State  in  time  of  war  or 
preceding  a  proposed  war. 

The  dilemma,  therefore,  is  a  very  serious  one. 
It  is  especially  serious  in  America  because  of  the 
vast  size  of  our  land,  so  that  the  element  of  pro- 
tective gregariousness  is  not  to  be  relied  upon. 
Lord  Macaulay  predicted  that 

the  civilization  of  the  United  States  would  be  de- 
stroyed by  lawlessness  engendered  within  her  own 
institutions.  The  Chief  Justice  of  the  Court  of  Ap- 
peals in  Georgia  recently  said:  "If  this  prophecy  is 
not  to  be  fulfilled,  the  tide  of  lawlessness  which  is 
sweeping  the  Nation  must  be  arrested,  and  the  cause 
of  it  destroyed.  Our  laws  and  Federal  Constitution 
stand  like  a  dike  to  arrest  the  tide,  but  if  there  is  a 
single  break  in  the  dike  it  will  disappear  and  we  will 
be  engulfed  in  the  rushing  waters  of  lawlessness.'* 
For  officers  or  the  people  to  permit  laws  to  be  violated 
is  a  deadly  attack  upon  the  Government.  Its  con- 
tagion spreads  from  one  law  to  another.  It  distills  its 
deadly  poison  into  the  arteries  of  our  jurisprudence. 
It  palsies  the  power  of  honest  officials.  It  assassinates 
the  vital  processes  of  orderly  control.  It  is  a  prolific 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  223 

source  of  disease  to  the  whole  social  order,  and  jeop- 
ardizes the  life  of  the  race.1 

This  is  excellent  and  wholesome  doctrine,  but 
in  a  democracy  like  ours  whence  is  to  come  the 
vital  flame  which  shall  make  this  respect  for 
law  effective? 

I  believe  there  is  no  solution  of  this  great 
problem  except  through  education.  In  the  next 
chapter  I  shall  indicate  a  few  of  the  ways  in 
which  science  may  be  applied  to  a  new  kind  of 
social  reconstruction.  In  the  immediate  future, 
however,  perhaps  we  must  still  rely  upon  nation- 
alism. It  is  still  possible  to  draw  upon  the  in- 
stinct of  devotion  and  loyalty  to  the  State 
for  the  discipline  which  is  necessary  for  social 
integration.  In  nationalism  we  have  an  an- 
cient, instinctive,  psychological  motive  for  so- 
cial solidarity  and  obedience  to  law.  War  or  no 
war,  Our  Country  must  still  be  the  motive  which 
shall  appeal  to  our  allegiance,  loyalty,  and  de- 
votion to  the  end  of  team-work  and  social 
morale.  The  arguments  for  internationalism  are 
commercial  and  industrial  rather  than  social 
and  moral.  The  larger  the  group  the  more  diffi- 
cult the  integration.  It  is  for  some  prophet  of 

1  Quoted  in  The  Outlook,  January  28,  1920,  p.  146. 


224  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

social  reconstruction  to  come  forward  with  a 
plan,  not  for  increased  production  of  goods,  not 
for  increase  of  comforts  and  luxuries,  not  for 
more  equality  and  more  freedom,  but  for  a 
social  order  based  on  small  and  closely  inte- 
grated communities  in  which  there  shall  be  a 
powerful  community  spirit  with  its  accompany- 
ing discipline  and  morale.  The  instinct  of  ag- 
gressive and  defensive  gregariousness,  no  longer 
acceptable  to  the  modern  mind,  must  be  sub- 
limated and  redirected.  It  will  be  still  a  long 
time  before  we  shall  have  that  degree  and  kind 
of  education  which  shall  make  it  possible  for  us 
to  substitute  humanity  for  the  State  and  in- 
ternationalism for  nationalism.  It  is  doubtful 
whether  we  are  even  progressing  toward  that 
goal  except  in  theory.  Those  who  dream  of 
some  other  form  of  world  organization,  not  polit- 
ical, which  shall  unify  and  integrate  humanity, 
such,  for  instance,  as  the  industrial  guild,  the 
labor  union,  the  friendly  society,  or  the  family,1 
are  still  reckoning  without  the  psychological 
element  and  are  ignoring  the  all-powerful  and 
ancient  instincts  and  interests  of  the  human 
mind. 

1  See  L.  P.  Jacks,  "The  International  Mind,*  Atlantic  Monthly, 
March,  1920. 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  225 

But  patriotism,  powerful  as  it  is,  will  not 
under  modern  conditions  be  sufficient.  For  the 
rest  we  must  depend  upon  education.  At  the 
present  time  knowledge  is  causing  us  to  lose 
faith  in  our  religion,  in  our  established  institu- 
tions, in  our  ancient  laws  of  conduct,  in  our 
social  conventions,  but  it  is  because  it  is  only- 
partial  knowledge.  It  is  still  true  that  a  little 
knowledge  is  a  dangerous  thing.  Having  started 
in  now  on  the  programme  of  universally  dis- 
seminated knowledge,  we  must  carry  it  through. 
At  the  present  time  the  world  has  just  enough 
knowledge  to  endanger  it,  not  enough  to  save 
it.*-  Education  must  be  universal,  thorough,  ade- 
quate. So  long  as  our  automobile  mechanics 
command  larger  salaries  than  our  teachers,  we 
are  on  the  wrong  road  to  social  welfare.  So  long 
as  we  expend  twice  as  much  for  tobacco  as  for 
schools,  we  waste  time  trying  to  save  our  coun- 
try by  means  of  religion  or  politics  or  by  means 
of  Socialism  or  any  other  system  of  social  recon- 
struction. What  we  must  have  is  knowledge, 
knowledge  of  the  real  sources  of  welfare,  happi- 
ness, and  self-realization.  Knowledge  alone  will 
enable  us  to  solve  the  problems  of  social  recon- 
struction; knowledge  will  restore  both  religion 
and  morality,  and  knowledge  will  save  society. 


226  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

We  shall  have  to  wake  up  to  the  fact  that  in 
this  country  of  amazing  wealth  it  will  no  longer 
suffice  to  set  aside  a  mere  insignificant  pittance 
for  our  schools,  but  really  large  sums  will  have 
to  be  spent,  and  we  shall  have  to  revise  our  con- 
cepts of  what  education  is.  Reading,  writing, 
algebra,  arithmetic,  geography  have  been  em- 
phasized in  our  schools  because  morals,  citizen- 
ship, health,  industry,  thrift,  and  obedience  to  law 
were  supposed  to  be  taught  at  home.  We  can  no 
longer  rely  upon  the  home  for  these  things.1 

1  The  serious  situation  in  regard  to  the  schools  in  the  United 
States  may  be  partly  understood  by  reading  Professor  William  C. 
Bagley's  article  entitled  "Education,  the  National  Problem,"  in 
the  New  Republic  for  December  17,  1919.  Our  teachers,  he  says, 
are  rapidly  diminishing  in  numbers  and  deteriorating  in  quality. 
One  fourth  of  them  are  scarcely  more  than  boys  and  girls.  No 
longer  are  the  best  of  our  high-school  and  college  students  drawn 
into  the  public-school  service,  but  those  of  lower  grade.  "Sixty 
thousand  of  our  teachers  are  reported  as  unable  to  meet  the  very 
meager  standards  of  the  lowest  grade  of  teachers'  certificates." 

Professor  Bagley  shows  further,  and  this  is  very  significant,  that 
nearly  sixty  per  cent  of  the  next  generation  of  American  citizens 
will  have  all  of  their  schooling  in  rural  schools  taught  by  mere  boys 
and  girls,  mostly  girls,  who  have  themselves  received  scarcely  a 
rudimentary  education.  Of  our  three  hundred  thousand  rural  and 
village  teachers,  an  overwhelming  majority  have  not  passed  the 
age  of  twenty-one  and  at  least  one  third  of  them  are  sixteen,  seven- 
teen, or  eighteen  years  of  age.  In  one  typical  Middle-Western 
State  one  half  of  the  rural-school  teachers  are  twenty  years  old 
or  younger.  Furthermore,  nearly  a  million  of  children  are  out  of 
school  because  teachers  cannot  be  found  for  them. 

Many  of  these  figures  are  based  upon  pre-war  statistics  and  the 
situation  at  the  present  time  is  even  worse  than  here  shown. 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  227 

And  another  thing  which  we  shall  have  to 
learn  is  that  public  schools  and  public  education 
are  two  very  different  affairs.  The  teachers  of 
the  American  people  to-day  are  not  the  young 
women  who  for  five  or  six  hours  a  day  during  a 
part  of  the  year  hear  recitations  in  grammar, 
arithmetic,  geography,  and  spelling;  the  teach- 
ers of  to-day  are  the  metropolitan  newspapers 
which  find  their  swift  way  into  every  corner  of 
the  country,  and  the  bulky  Sunday  papers  sent 
out  by  the  carload,  and  the  agricultural  papers 
which  the  rural  mail  brings  to  every  farmhouse, 
and  the  great  weeklies  whose  wealth  of  advertise- 
ments makes  it  possible  to  scatter  them  by  the 
millions  broadcast  for  a  nickel  or  a  dime  a  copy, 
and  the  weekly  and  monthly  magazines  found  in 
every  home,  and  the  books  of  current  fiction  so 
easy  of  access  and  so  absorbingly  interesting, 
and  the  moving  pictures  attended  by  ten  or  fif- 
teen millions,  mostly  young  people,  daily  —  all 
these  are  our  teachers  of  to-day  and  they  are 
moulding  the  thoughts  and  habits  of  our  young 
and  old. 

To  appraise  the  value  of  the  education  re- 
ceived in  this  gigantic  "school"  would  be  a  task 
which  few  would  be  bold  enough  to  undertake. 
That  it  contains  an  immense  amount  of  good 


228  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

no  one  will  question;  that  it  likewise  contains  an 
immense  amount  of  evil  few  will  deny.  But  the 
thing  which  is  most  evident  is  that  a  colossal 
burden  of  social  responsibility  rests  upon  the 
shoulders  of  our  journalists,  news  reporters, 
writers  of  fiction,  and  moving-picture  makers 
of  to-day.  It  is  very  possible  that  there  are 
many  editors  and  reporters  who  have  never 
even  thought  of  or  reflected  upon  the  fact  that 
they  are  the  teachers  and  the  leaders  of  the 
people  and  that  they  hold  a  position  of  grave 
responsibility  for  the  moral  health  of  the  com- 
munity. Possibly  some  regard  their  work  as  a 
business  enterprise. 

Journalism  can  no  longer  be  left  to  mere  acci- 
dent. We  shall  have  to  recognize  that  those  who 
conduct  our  newspapers  and  magazines  are 
public  teachers,  having  an  infinite  responsibil- 
ity for  public  morals  and  manners. 

It  is  evident,  therefore,  that,  when  we  speak 
of  education  as  the  cure  for  our  social  ills,  we 
shall  have  to  enlarge  our  notion  of  what  edu- 
cation is.  We  have  no  longer  to  do  simply  with 
schools  in  the  ordinary  sense.  We  must  begin  to 
think  of  some  vast  new  plan  of  education  which 
shall  vitalize  and  moralize  and  mobilize  for  the 
common  good  every  source  of  educational  in- 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  229 

fluence,  our  religion,  our  press,  our  fiction,  our 
art,  our  drama,  our  music,  our  moving  pictures. 
The  deluge  of  bad  music  that  is  pouring  over 
our  country  is  due  to  ignorance.  Some  of  this 
music  is  demoralizing,  very  little  of  it  is  moral- 
izing, most  of  it  is  merely  poor.  Our  people 
would  enjoy  and  appreciate  good  music  if  it 
were  offered  them,  if  they  had  a  chance  to  know 
it.1  It  is  doubtful  whether  there  is  any  real 
demand  for  the  so-called  comic  pages  in  the 
Sunday  papers;  the  children  would  be  equally 
pleased  with  something  better  and  adults  would 
be  spared  these  weekly  nauseas.  It  is  probably 
true  also  that  the  demand  for  sensational  news 
in  our  daily  papers  is  much  exaggerated  by  the 
press.  Readers  would  appreciate  and  would  be 
willing  to  pay  for  a  higher  kind  of  first  page  than 
that  bold-print  display  of  every  kind  of  wrong- 
doing which  is  now  justified  on  the  ground  of 
publicity  and  demand.  But  the  real  lesson  we 
have  to  learn  is  that  it  is  not  a  question  of  de- 
mand and  supply  at  all,  but  a  question  of  moral 
obligation  to  the  community.  We  must  learn 

1  This  has  been  shown,  for  instance,  in  the  case  of  the  good  music 
furnished  by  the  Strand  Orchestra  at  the  Strand  theaters  in  New 
York  and  Brooklyn  in  connection  with  the  moving  pictures.  It  is 
enjoyed  and  appreciated  by  the  thousands  of  patrons  who  hear 
it  daily. 


230  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

who  the  educators  of  our  people  are  and  what 
their  responsibility  is. 

It  has  been  na*ively  proposed  to  use  the  mov- 
ing pictures  as  a  means  of  education.  They  are 
that  already  with  a  vengeance,  and  they  reach 
the  young  people  and  hold  their  attention,  not 
five  days  of  the  week  and  thirty  weeks  in  the 
year,  but  daily  and  Sunday  throughout  the 
year;  and  what  they  offer  is  that  which  will 
draw,  and  that  which  draws  is  the  thrilling. 
These  pictures  present,  therefore,  a  series  of 
thrills,  and  the  thrilling  is  the  unusual,  the  new, 
the  startling,  the  very  latest,  the  very  biggest, 
the  very  fastest,  the  very  best,  the  very  worst, 
and  the  most  interesting.  Love  is  interesting, 
heroism  is  interesting,  sex  is  interesting,  crime 
is  interesting;  all  these  abound.  Sometimes 
great  moral  lessons  are  taught,  but  life  is  here 
so  schematized  that  the  lessons  are  hardly  ap- 
plicable to  our  actual  life;  the  suggestions,  how- 
ever, remain  and  bear  fruit.  There  is  no  remedy 
for  this  evil  but  education.  What  the  makers 
and  promoters  of  the  pictures  lack  is  moral 
taste;  what  the  people  lack  is  dramatic  taste. 

One  would  suppose  that,  since  the  stage  in 
America  has  been  degraded  to  the  level  of  the 
moving  pictures,  some  dramatic  representations 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  231 

of  a  high  order  would  be  offered  in  every  town 
and  city  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  care  for 
better  art.  In  rare  cases  this  is  true,  but  generally 
throughout  the  land  the  moving  pictures  alter- 
nate with  a  degraded  vaudeville,  with  its  "amaz- 
ing display  of  shoddy  sallies  at  marriage,  and 
women,  and  Congress,  and  prohibition,  and  bed- 
room farces."  Shall  we  correct  these  things  by 
law?  But  in  a  democracy  the  people  make  and 
enforce  the  laws.  Evidently  education  is  our 
only  hope.  Socrates  was  right  when  he  said  that 
virtue  is  knowledge. 

After  all,  when  we  have  said  that  universal 
education  must  be  the  secret  of  social  discipline, 
we  have  not  said  the  last  word  on  the  subject, 
for  the  question,  of  course,  arises,  who  is  to  edu- 
cate the  educators?  Social  discipline,  like  social 
progress,  must  depend  in  the  last  analysis  upon 
gifted  and  far-seeing  leaders.  The  springs  of 
progress  do  not  come  up  from  the  people,  they 
come  down  from  Heaven.  The  ultimate  problem 
seems,  therefore,  to  be  how  to  give  our  seers, 
our  wise  men,  and  our  prophets  the  authority 
necessary  for  social  control.  This  implies  a  re- 
spect and  confidence  which  in  the  past  has  been 
gained  through  religious,  social,  or  political 
status.  In  our  social  democracies  of  the  future 


232  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

this  means  may  not  avail.  There  seems  to  be, 
therefore,  nothing  for  it  but  to  gain  this  author- 
ity through  the  respect  and  reverence  that  we 
have  for  science  as  such.  It  would  seem,  there- 
fore, that  our  seers  and  leaders  of  the  future 
must  be  scientific  experts  after  the  manner  of 
the  rulers  in  Plato's  Republic,  but  supported  by 
all  the  people  merely  because  they  are  men  who 
know. 

But  the  constitution  of  our  modern  society  is 
such  that  education  alone  will  not  suffice  for 
social  discipline.  With  our  ever-increasing  num- 
bers of  subnormal  individuals,  including  the 
feeble-minded,  insane,  epileptics,  and  hereditary 
criminals,  to  say  nothing  here  of  the  increasing 
proportion  of  the  physically  unfit,  modern  so- 
ciety carries  a  mass  of  impedimenta  which  is 
going  to  make  social  integration  exceedingly 
difficult. 

Let  me  make  this  concrete  by  a  single  illus- 
tration: A  normal-school  teacher,  writing  of 
types  of  boys  with  whom  he  has  had  experience 
in  reform  schools,  mentions  this  typical  case. 

On  Boy  No.  5  I  have  never  felt  it  quite  safe  to  turn 
my  back.  I  can  call  him  nothing  else  than  a  "cold- 
blooded" criminal.  A  complete  coward  himself,  as 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  233 

afraid  as  death  of  any  physical  suffering  for  himself, 
he  will  inflict  pain  on  animals  or  on  other  persons 
without  the  slightest  qualms  of  either  flesh  or  con- 
science. I  have  seen  him  hold  mangled  but  living 
birds  against  a  hot  stove,  "just  to  see  them  squirm." 
I  have  overheard  him  retail  with  great  glee  his  fre- 
quent use  of  the  "blackjack"  upon  the  victims  of  his 
"hold-ups."  "Pom!"  he  would  tell  it.  "  'Ughl'  says 
the  guy,  and  down  he  goes  all  in  a  heap,  and  right 
away  I  have  some  more  mon'  to  spend.  No,  I  never 
plunk  a  feller  who  can't  stand  it.  No,  you  bet  I'll 
never  kill  a  guy.  I  know  where  to  hit  'em." 

My  own  conviction  is  that  Boy  No.  5  ought  to  go 
on  the  surgeon's  chair  and  have  something  done  to 
the  inside  of  his  skull,  for  I  feel  absolutely  certain 
that  there  is  something  fundamentally  wrong  there 
that  accounts  for  his  cold-blooded  heartlessness  to- 
ward the  sufferings  of  anything  or  any  one  else  than 
himself.  My  attitude  toward  him  has  been  the  one  a 
person  takes  toward  a  venomous  snake  —  a  sort  of 
watchful  loathing  or  repulsion.  Lacking  the  opera- 
tion suggested  above,  society  would  be  safe  from  his 
dangerous  preyings  only  through  his  confinement 
within  strong  walls  —  and  even  then  the  guard  would 
have  to  be  ever  on  the  watch  against  his  "Pom!  and 
down  he  goes  all  in  a  heap!" 

If  we  remember  that  a  case  like  this  is  merely  a 
type  of  thousands,  and  if  we  think  of  the  count- 
less numbers  of  feeble-minded  men  and  women 
permitted  by  our  social  customs  to  scatter 
broadcast  their  defective  heredity,  and  if  we 
think  still  further  of  the  increasing  numbers  of 


234  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

our  other  defective  and  delinquent  classes,  we 
begin  to  understand  the  tremendous  problem 
of  social  discipline  in  modern  society.  Some  day 
—  let  us  hope  it  will  not  be  too  late  —  we  shall 
wake  up  to  the  necessity  of  social  self-protection 
against  these  enemies  of  morale.  It  is  true  that 
our  experiments  in  eugenics  both  in  its  positive 
and  negative  forms  have  not  been  very  success- 
ful. Neither  were  our  first  experiments  in  flying. 
When  we  get  ready  to  apply  to  this  problem  a 
fraction  of  the  thought  and  care  which  we  are 
now  applying  to  the  perfection  of  the  automobile, 
then  something  will  be  done.1 

In  Professor  C.  A.  Ellwood's  book,  The  Social 
Problem,  one  finds  a  sane  treatment  of  these 
problems  and  a  clear  and  comprehensive  state- 
ment of  the  conditions  of  our  social  salvation.  In 
place  of  our  narrow  individualism  and  our  fond 
materialism  must  be  substituted  the  service  of 
humanity,  rather  than  the  service  of  the  indi- 

1  A  definite  and  concrete  plan  for  the  salvation  of  society  from 
physical  degeneracy  has  been  presented  by  Mr.  Seth  K.  Humphrey 
in  the  last  chapter  of  his  recent  book,  The  Racial  Prospect.  It  is 
only  necessary  that  the  collective  group  should  have  the  resolution 
to  carry  it  out.  His  plan  for  the  final  elimination  of  the  defectives 
and  ineffectives  would  seem  to  be  practicable.  In  place  of  his 
further  rather  bizarre  proposal  for  conserving  the  heritage  of  the 
now  childless  select  individuals,  some  other  more  natural  means 
could  be  devised. 


SOCIAL  DISCIPLINE  235 

vidual,  class,  nation,  or  race.  To  this  end  there 
must  be  a  revaluation  of  religion,  morality,  and 
education,  as  well  as  of  government,  law,  and 
family  life.  Religion  must  be  socialized  and  re- 
vitalized. Education  must  be  moralized.  There 
must  be  a  rational,  eugenic  programme,  a  just 
economic  order,  and  a  healthy  social  atmos- 
phere. 

This  is  excellent  fatherly  advice,  but  will  the 
children  heed  it?  This  is  a  typical  expression  of 
the  best  social  philosophy  of  the  present  by  one 
of  its  able  exponents,  but  at  the  same  time  it  re- 
veals the  fatal  defects  of  this  same  social  phi- 
losophy— its  lack  of  a  psychological  foundation. 
What  is  wanting  is  the  motive  power  to  put  this 
ambitious  programme  into  effect.  The  flame,  the 
glowing  end,  is  absent.  Given  wise  leaders  and  a 
submissive  and  obedient  people  and  it  could  be 
done.  It  assumes  a  relatively  small  community 
of  rational  beings  ready  to  reason  and  listen  to 
reason.  In  the  Age  of  Pericles  or  Socrates  it 
might  work.  In  our  surging  masses  of  northern 
people  something  more  concrete  is  needed.  "The 
Northerner,"  says  Professor  Marvin,  "is  not 
hardheaded,  is  not  a  lover  of  order  and  form,  is 
not ' classic.'  Rather  he  is  sentimental,  romantic, 
venturesome,   restless,    undisciplined   and   dis- 


236  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

orderly."  l  Professor  Ellwood  comes  nearer  to  a 
"solution"  of  the  social  problem  when  he  says 
that  it  depends  upon  the  finding  and  training  of 
social  leaders.  It  may,  however,  be  doubted 
whether  leaders  are  either  found  or  trained. 
They  just  appear,  —  that  is,  the  kind  of  leaders 
that  can  lead. 

Perhaps  with  our  headstrong  and  wayward 
northern  races,  and  our  increasing  populations, 
and  our  large  social  groups,  there  is  no  solution 
of  the  problem  of  social  discipline  apart  from 
that  defensive  or  offensive  gregariousness  which 
can  no  longer  be  invoked  because  it  leads  to  war 
and  ruin.  Possibly  modern  civilization  has  come 
to  an  impasse.  Probably  what  we  need  is  some 
new  intecpretation  of  religion  which  shall  sweep 
the  world  and  snatch  us  out  of  our  devotion  to 
self  and  our  narrow  class  interests.  That  failing, 
education  and  the  organization  of  intelligence 
will  be  our  only  hope.  In  the  following  chapter 
we  shall  consider  some  ways  in  which  organized 
intelligence  may  be  applied  to  this  and  to  certain 
other  problems  of  social  reconstruction. 

1  Walter  T.  Marvin,  The  History  of  European  Philosophy, 
p.  247. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  NEXT  STEP  IN  APPLIED  SCIENCE 

IT  was  long  ago  that  Plato  taught  that  sci- 
ence should  not  be  applied  to  the  mechanical 
and  industrial  arts,  but  to  education,  social  cul- 
ture, and  social  health.  And  a  century  and  a  half 
has  passed  since  Rousseau's  celebrated  essay,  in 
which  he  tried  to  show  that  the  arts  and  sciences 
had  done  nothing  to  advance  human  happiness. 
From  our  modern  point  of  view  these  were  the 
pathetic  mistakes  of  great  men,  so  richly,  as  we 
think,  has  science  vindicated  itself  in  its  practi- 
cal applications. 

Consequently,  when  the  term  "  applied  sci- 
ence" came  into  use  not  many  years  ago,  it  was 
heralded  with  great  joy,  for  we  were  weary  of 
Plato's  theoretical  ideas  about  justice  and  truth, 
and  skeptical  about  his  plan  for  racial  culture, 
and  we  longed  for  something  practical  and  im- 
mediate. We  welcomed,  therefore,  the  direct  ap- 
plication of  science  to  our  everyday  needs,  and 
when,  in  response  to  this  demand,  science  began 
to  shower  its  practical  applications  upon  us,  it 


238  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

seemed  to  many  that  a  kind  of  golden  age  had 
come  at  last.  It  revealed  to  us  the  only  god 
worthy  of  our  worship  —  the  god  of  social  wel- 
fare, social  welfare  being  generally  interpreted 
to  mean  the  comfort,  happiness,  and  convenience 
of  the  present  generation. 

While  we  may  not  question  the  almost  un- 
limited possibilities  in  the  application  of  science 
to  social  welfare,  nevertheless,  we  may  raise  the 
question  whether  science  has  thus  far  been  ap- 
plied to  the  right  things.  The  war  has  shaken 
the  foundations  of  so  many  of  our  accepted 
opinions  that  even  our  faith  in  applied  science 
may  receive  a  rude  jolt.  Since  we  are  now  enter- 
ing upon  a  period  of  reconstruction,  which  many 
believe  will  involve  not  only  our  social  and  politi- 
cal ideals,  but  also  our  ethical  and  religious  be- 
liefs, it  is  legitimate  enough  to  ask  whether  ap- 
plied science  has  vindicated  itself  by  its  results 
and  what  place  it  is  to  occupy  in  the  coming 
order. 

Our  first  thought  is  that  applied  science  has 
been  not  only  a  stupendous  success,  but  perhaps 
the  crowning  achievement  of  the  human  mind. 
The  story  of  its  triumphs  is  known  by  heart  to 
every  school-girl.  Applied  science  has  made  the 
world  over,  making  it  a  decent  and  healthful 


NEXT  STEP  IN  APPLIED  SCIENCE    239 

place  to  live  in.  We  press  a  button  and  our 
houses  are  filled  with  light.  Scientific  heating, 
ventilation,  drainage,  and  sanitation  have  made 
our  homes  places  of  cheer,  comfort,  and  health. 
The  motor-car,  smooth,  noiseless,  and  swift, 
saves  our  time  and  our  nerves.  Time-savers, 
too,  are  the  typewriter,  the  dictograph,  the  mul- 
tigraph,  and  the  adding  machine.  Communica- 
tion is  facilitated  by  the  wireless  telegraph,  the 
telephone,  and  the  aerial  mail. 

It  is  needless  to  go  through  the  familiar  list. 
Lest,  however,  it  should  be  thought  that  applied 
science  has  given  us  only  comforts,  conveniences, 
and  time-saving  devices,  we  are  reminded  of  its 
triumphs  in  the  conquest  of  disease,  in  public 
sanitation,  in  surgery,  dentistry,  and  preventive 
medicine,  and  in  the  application  of  chemistry  to 
agriculture.  And  most  manifest  of  all  are  the 
countless  applications  of  science  to  the  industrial 
and  mechanical  arts,  increasing  the  efficiency  of 
labor,  thereby  shortening  the  hours  of  the  la- 
borer, as  well  as  ministering  to  his  comfort  and 
health.  Certainly  applied  science  has  made  the 
world  a  tidy  place  to  live  in  and  contributed  an 
untold  sum  to  human  happiness  and  welfare. 
Surely,  had  Rousseau  lived  in  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury he  would  never  have  written,  even  for  the 


24o  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

sake  of  a  brilliant  paradox,  an  essay  questioning 
the  value  of  the  arts  and  sciences  to  civilization. 

We  may  not,  indeed,  question  the  potential 
value  of  applied  science,  nor  even  its  actual 
value  in  countless  directions.  What  we  may 
question  is  whether  there  has  been  a  mistaken 
conception  of  the  general  end  to  which  science 
should  be  applied,  in  respect  to  real  social  wel- 
fare. To  what  extent  has  science,  as  it  has  ac- 
tually been  applied,  contributed  to  human 
good  ? 

First,  applied  science  has  surrounded  us  with 
comforts,  conveniences,  and  luxuries  of  every 
kind.  But  just  what  will  be  the  effect  upon  a  race 
of  men,  disciplined  through  a  hundred  thousand 
years  of  hardship,  of  this  sudden  introduction 
to  comfort?  This  question  puts  the  whole  sub- 
ject of  applied  science  in  a  new  light.  Perhaps  we 
have  been  applying  science  to  the  wrong  ends. 
Possibly  science  should  never  have  been  applied 
to  making  man  comfortable,  but  to  making  him 
perfect.  It  may  be  that  there  is  great  danger  in 
comfort.  The  biologist  holds  it  in  grave  sus- 
picion; degeneracy  is  its  sequel.  It  was  through 
struggle  and  warfare  and  the  overcoming  of  ob- 
stacles that  man  fought  his  way  up  to  manhood. 
With  infinite  effort  he  gained  an  upright  position 


NEXT  STEP  IN  APPLIED  SCIENCE    241 

the  better  to  strike  down  his  enemies.  Strong 
legs  and  stout  arms  were  the  correlates  of  his 
growing  brain,  the  latter  itself  finding  its  neces- 
sary support  in  a  powerful  heart  and  vigorous 
digestive  system.  There  is  an  especially  intimate 
connection  and  interdependence  between  the 
brain  and  the  muscular  system,  making  the  latter 
indispensable  to  the  proper  functioning  of  the 
former.  Now,  applied  science  has  shown  us  how 
machinery  may  take  the  place  of  the  stout  arms 
and  the  motor-car  may  be  a  substitute  for  the 
strong  legs,  while  science  itself  and  the  applica- 
tions themselves  draw  more  and  more  heavily 
upon  the  powers  of  the  brain.  The  harder  the 
brain  has  to  work  in  the  pursuit  of  science  and 
the  mechanic  arts,  the  more  it  stands  in  need  of 
the  physiological  support  of  the  muscular,  di- 
gestive, and  circulatory  systems.  But,  for  main- 
taining the  health  and  integrity  of  these,  our 
present  manner  of  living  is  not  well  adapted. 

"Oh,  well,"  it  is  replied,  "there  are  no  signs  of 
physical  degeneration  yet.  Look  at  our  armies  in 
the  World  War.  Finer  physical  specimens  never 
marched  out  to  meet  an  enemy."  Yes,  but  they 
were  picked  men,  the  very  flower  of  *a  vast  na- 
tion. They  were  from  the  upper  tenth  physically. 
They  were  the  young  males.  They  were  the 


242  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

sixty-five  per  cent  of  the  young  males  not  re- 
jected by  the  examining  boards.  The  germ- 
plasm  of  the  best  of  our  race  could  not  suffer 
deterioration  in  the  short  time  of  the  "comfort" 
regime.  But  upon  biological  grounds  we  must 
believe  that  the  disastrous  consequences  of  such 
a  regime  upon  society  as  a  whole  may  be  serious 
in  the  highest  degree. 

Another  of  the  most  brilliant  triumphs  of  ap- 
plied science  is  seen  in  our  countless  and  won- 
derful labor-saving  devices.  The  effect  of  these 
is  either  to  decrease  the  amount  of  labor  or  by 
increasing  its  efficiency  to  increase  the  products 
of  labor.  But  we  simply  assume  that  increased 
wealth  and  decreased  labor  are  human  blessings, 
although  both  may  be  quite  the  opposite.  It  has 
been  seriously  questioned  whether  civilized  man 
has  gained  enough  moral  and  physical  poise  to 
be  trusted  with  the  immense  wealth  which  ap- 
plied science,  working  upon  our  suddenly  ac- 
quired store  of  coal  and  iron,  has  supplied.  The 
war  did  not  count  the  poverty  of  the  nations 
among  its  causes,  and  if  greed  is  the  root  of  most 
modern  evils,  it  has  not  been  shown  that  increasing 
wealth  and  increasing  comforts  have  lessened  it. 

And  then  there  are  the  time-saving  devices. 
It  is  no  doubt  because  of  the  temper  of  the  day 


NEXT  STEP  IN  APPLIED  SCIENCE    243 

that  so  few  of  us  have  ever  questioned  their  in- 
trinsic value.  But  with  all  these  time-saving  de- 
vices it  is  not  quite  apparent  that  we  have  any 
more  time  than  formerly.  Sometimes  it  seems  as 
if  we  have  less.  Leibniz  lived  before  the  time  of 
typewriters  and  dictographs,  yet  he  is  said  to 
have  had  a  thousand  correspondents,  and  in  ad- 
dition to  his  duties  as  court  librarian,  diplo- 
matist, and  historian,  he  found  time  to  discover 
and  perfect  the  differential  calculus  and  to  write 
great  works  on  philosophy.  In  any  case  the 
value  of  time-saving  devices  will  depend  upon 
the  use  of  the  time  that  is  saved.  As  it  is,  it  ap- 
pears to  be  used  very  largely  for  carrying  on 
more  business,  to  make  more  money,  to  buy  or 
invent  more  time-saving  devices.  Even  if  there 
results  a  certain  amount  of  leisure,  much  de- 
pends upon  the  manner  in  which  the  leisure  is 
spent.  If  it  is  spent  in  sitting  quiescent  in  a  dark- 
ened moving-picture  room,  gazing  spellbound 
at  a  tawdry  drama,  the  gain  is  not  great. 

To  all  such  arguments  as  the  above  it  will  be 
replied  that  modern  science  has  nevertheless 
made  the  world  a  decent  and  comfortable  place 
to  live  in  and  that  there  has  never  been  so  much 
happiness  in  the  world  as  at  present.  But,  since 
1 91 4,  Europe  has  not  been  a  decent  nor  a  com- 


244  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

fortable  place  to  live  in  nor  has  there  been  gen- 
eral happiness,  although  Germany  excelled  in 
its  development  of  science  and  in  the  application 
of  science  to  the  mechanic  arts.  A  good  civiliza- 
tion must  insure  some  degree  of  stability. 

In  this  connection  we  are  reminded  that  there 
is  one  field  in  which  science  has  distinguished  it- 
self beyond  all  others,  and  that  is  in  the  art  of 
war.  To  the  exquisite  perfecting  of  this  art  every 
science  has  been  called  upon  to  contribute  its 
very  best  and  latest  results  —  mathematics, 
engineering,  physics,  chemistry,  metallurgy,  me- 
chanics, optics,  radio-activity,  electro-dynamics, 
aeronautics,  economics,  zoology,  psychology, 
and  many  others.  An  immeasurable  weight  of 
the  best  and  keenest  thought  of  the  world 
has  been  expended  in  the  application  of  sci- 
ence to  the  paraphernalia  of  war,  resulting  in 
an  amazing  progress  in  the  development  of  this 
art  to  the  highest  conceivable  degree  of  per- 
fection. 

In  former  times  wars  acted  to  purify  racial 
stocks  by  eliminating  weak  races.  Modern  wars 
have  precisely  the  opposite  effect,  owing  to  the 
fact  that  a  modern  war  kills  or  disables  the  best 
young  men  of  all  the  warring  nations,  and  so, 
by  destroying  the  most  valuable  germ-plasm  of 


NEXT  STEP  IN  APPLIED  SCIENCE    245 

the  race,  causes  irreparable  damage  to  society. 
Applied  science  has  devised  every  conceivable 
means  to  make  the  destruction  complete.  Would 
it  not  be  well,  therefore,  in  the  years  to  come  for 
science  to  apply  itself  directly  to  the  problem  of 
preventing  wars  ?  It  is  idle  to  say  that  they  can- 
not be  prevented  or  that  science  has  nothing  to 
do  with  this  problem.  It  lies  distinctly  within  the 
field  of  such  sciences  as  biology,  psychology,  so- 
ciology, and  education.  For  applied  psychology 
it  offers  a  most  alluring  field.  It  may  be  an  im- 
mense problem,  but  the  possibilities  of  science 
are  immense. 

At  present  we  are  deeply  impressed  by  the 
waste  and  folly  of  wars  between  nations  and  are 
still  hoping  for  an  effective  League  of  Nations 
to  lessen  their  frequency;  but  the  menace  of  civil 
war  will  be  ever  present.  A  great  nation  may  be 
torn  asunder  by  a  dispute  about  slave  labor  or  a 
quarrel  over  religious  creeds;  mere  rivalries  be- 
tween families,  clans,  and  classes  may  cause  the 
streets  of  great  and  beautiful  cities  to  run  with 
blood,  or  a  whole  nation  may  simply  lapse  into 
civil  war  as  a  result  of  the  disintegration  of  out- 
worn political  institutions.  Any  of  these  causes 
seems  less  promising  for  war  than  the  conflict 
of  labor  and  capital  which  is  facing  us. 


246  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

We  have  thus  in  the  preventing  of  war  a  real 
problem  for  applied  science,  especially  for  ap- 
plied psychology.  Let  us,  by  all  means,  make 
over  our  laws  and  our  international  relations  to 
the  end  of  preserving  order,  but  let  us  direct  our 
main  endeavors  to  making  over  our  men  and 
citizens  so  that  they  will  have  sense  enough  to 
settle  all  their  disputes  and  controversies  in  some 
more  rational  way  than  by  blowing  out  each 
other's  brains  with  high  explosives  or  by  drop- 
ping bombs  from  aeroplanes  to  destroy  buildings 
that  they  have  erected  with  infinite  labor.  Edu- 
cation will  be  efficient  here,  but  it  is  an  especially 
attractive  field  for  applied  psychology.  The 
source  of  war  is  in  the  human  brain,  where  the 
instincts  of  combat  lie  deeply  embedded,  sanc- 
tioned through  the  warfare  of  thousands  of  years 
of  human  history.  To  eradicate  these  instincts 
may  be  difficult.  To  substitute  some  other  form 
of  expression  for  them  may  be  possible.  At  any 
rate  it  would  be  worth  while  to  turn  in  these 
directions  a  fraction  of  the  brain  power  which 
has  been  expended  in  the  invention  and  circum- 
vention of  the  submarine  boat  or  in  the  trans- 
mission of  messages  by  means  of  the  ether. 

But  it  may  be  said,  if  applied  science  has  not 
contributed  as  much  to  human  welfare,  as  first 


NEXT  STEP  IN  APPLIED  SCIENCE    247 

appears,  in  the  field  of  mechanic  arts,  neverthe- 
less there  are  other  fields  in  which  its  contribu- 
tions are  unquestioned,  notably  in  hygiene,  san- 
itation, and  agriculture. 

The  deep  obligation  which  the  world  owes  to 
applied  science  for  its  work  in  social  and  do- 
mestic hygiene,  in  applied  bacteriology,  in  sur- 
gery, dentistry,  and  preventive  medicine,  is  ap- 
preciated by  everybody.  But  the  question  arises 
whether  even  here  science  has  been  applied  in 
just  the  right  direction. 

Let  us  take  dentistry  as  a  convenient  illustra- 
tion. This  highly  perfected  modern  art  has  given 
us  beauty  and  symmetry  of  the  teeth,  replac- 
ing the  deformities  which  formerly  were  so  un- 
sightly, particularly  among  older  people.  But 
obviously  we  have  here  not  a  remedial  art,  but 
a  patching-up  process.  Crowns  and  bridges  and 
artificial  substitutes,  themselves  often  the  source 
of  infection  disturbing  the  health  of  the  whole 
body,  have  replaced  the  sound  white  teeth  which 
Nature  should  supply.  At  one  time  in  our  racial 
history  sound  teeth  were  necessary  for  the  sur- 
vival of  an  individual.  They  are  scarcely  so  at 
present,  for  with  artificial  teeth  and  soft  pre- 
pared foods  one  may  get  along  very  well  and 
one's  children  may  inherit  the  inner  defects. 


248  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

This  process  cannot  go  on  forever.  Under  the 
old  regime,  before  the  rise  of  modern  dentistry, 
there  was  at  least  a  force,  powerful  if  not  always 
effective,  working  to  the  end  of  sound  natural 
teeth.  The  dentist's  art  has  to  a  large  extent 
displaced  this  force.  Is  it  too  much  to  conceive 
of  a  new  dentistry  which  shall  have  for  its  object 
not  to  make  people  look  better,  but  to  make 
them  really  better?  If  it  is  replied  that  this  is 
precisely  what  the  most  recent  dental  art  aims 
at  in  its  teaching  of  oral  hygiene,  it  is  still  true 
that  this  work  relates  largely,  if  not  wholly,  to 
the  individual,  for  such  acquired  characters  are 
not  inherited,  so  that  dental  degeneration  may 
be  going  on  unchecked,  as  has  been  shown  to  be 
the  case  in  England.  The  problem  may  be  a  dif- 
ficult one,  but  not  necessarily  beyond  the  power 
of  applied  science. 

Then  there  is  the  conspicuous  instance  of  the 
apparent  triumphs  of  applied  science  in  the  con- 
quest of  modern  diseases,  particularly  those  of 
bacterial  origin.  Science  has  discovered,  for  in- 
stance, the  cause  and  cure  of  tuberculosis.  What 
greater  boon  to  humanity  could  there  be  than 
this  discovery,  with  its  keen  diagnostic  tech- 
nique, its  therapeutic  methods,  and  its  fresh-air 
cult?  It  would  appear,  however,  from  no  less  an 


NEXT  STEP  IN  APPLIED  SCIENCE    249 

authority  than  Professor  Karl  Pearson  that  the 
death-rate  from  tuberculosis  has  been  decreas- 
ing as  far  back  as  our  records  go,  and  that  since 
the  introduction  of  the  new  methods  of  treating 
this  disease,  which  date  from  about  1890,  the 
decrease  in  the  death-rate  has  been  less  rapid 
than  before.1  Neither  is  this  startling  situation 
due  to  an  increase  in  urban  or  factory  life,  as  is 
shown  by  the  recent  rapid  ravages  of  this  dis- 
ease in  rural  districts.  Even  though  the  accuracy 
of  Professor  Pearson's  statement  may  be  ques- 
tioned, and  even  though  it  be  true  that  many 
diseases  are  now  diagnosed  as  tuberculosis  which 
were  formerly  classed  under  other  names,  never- 
theless it  is  becoming  clear  that  this  branch  of 
applied  science  has  not  been  so  sweepingly 
successful  as  was  at  first  hoped,  and  that  it  may 
be  well  to  supplement  Nature  in  her  efforts  to 
produce  a  degree  of  immunity  to  this  disease  by 
strengthening  constitutional  resistance.  Methods 

1  Karl  Pearson,  Tuberculosis,  Heredity,  and  Environment,  p.  28. 

Dr.  V.  C.  Vaughan  of  the  University  of  Michigan  Medical 
School  said  in  an  address  before  the  Tuberculosis  Congress  at 
St.  Louis  in  April,  1920,  that  "while  before  the  war  the  mortality 
from  tuberculosis  decreased,  the  morbidity  from  this  disease,  as 
determined  by  post-mortem  examinations  and  by  the  application 
of  the  tuberculin  test,  increased."  On  the  increase  of  tuberculosis 
since  the  war,  compare  the  article  by  Homer  Folks  entitled  "War, 
the  Best  Friend  of  Disease '  in  Harper's  Magazine  for  March,  1920. 


250  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

of  accomplishing  this  end  are  well  understood 
now,  since  the  Mendelian  laws  of  heredity  be- 
came known.  It  is  only  necessary  to  apply  this 
branch  of  science. 

In  respect  to  general  social  hygiene,  the  bene- 
fits conferred  by  applied  science  seem  certainly 
at  first  sight  to  be  unimpeachable.  One  thinks 
immediately  of  our  clean  houses  and  our  clean 
cities,  of  our  comparative  freedom  from  the 
scourges  of  smallpox,  cholera,  typhus,  and 
malaria,  which  in  former  times  decimated  the 
people.  One  thinks,  too,  of  the  marvelous  tri- 
umphs of  sanitation  in  the  Panama  Canal  Zone 
and  in  our  colossal  national  army,  army  camps 
and  cantonments  during  the  war.  One  thinks  of 
our  efficient  and  sanitary  hospital  service,  of  our 
wonderful  restorative  surgery,  our  orthopedic 
art,  and  our  discovery  and  application  of  anaes- 
thetics to  the  relief  of  pain. 

The  benefits,  at  least  to  the  present  genera- 
tion, of  this  social  hygiene  are  so  patent  that 
few  of  us  have  stopped  to  question  whether  it 
is,  strictly  speaking,  social  hygiene  at  all,  or,  if 
it  should  be  so  called,  whether  it  is  the  highest 
kind  of  social  hygiene.  Social  hygiene  must  have 
as  its  end  a  really  healthy  people,  not  a  weak- 
ened race  which  at  every  turn  must  be  corrected 


NEXT  STEP  IN  APPLIED  SCIENCE    251 

and  protected  by  artificial  means.  Our  method 
of  combating  epidemic  diseases  has  had  for  its 
two  main  objects  the  protection  of  the  individ- 
ual from  infective  agencies  and  the  discovery 
of  neutralizing  antitoxins.  Little  attention,  one 
might  say  almost  no  attention,  has  been  given 
to  making  the  individual  constitutionally  re- 
sistant to  these  agencies.  It  is  perhaps  a  losing 
game  to  try  to  protect  the  human  race  from 
toxic  and  infective  agencies.  Brilliant  temporary 
results  may  be  gained,  but  a  new  swarm  of  micro- 
scopic enemies  will  ever  be  on  the  scene  to  take 
advantage  of  their  weakened  victims.  So  while 
we  gain  control  over  smallpox  and  typhus  by 
constantly  repeated  devices,  epidemics  of  infan- 
tile paralysis,  influenza,  and  pneumonia  cause  us 
to  renew  our  Sisyphean  labors. 

In  the  meantime,  while  we  are  making  head- 
way against  typhus  and  malaria  and  perhaps 
against  tuberculosis,  we  hear  of  the  increase  of 
cancer,  venereal  diseases,  diseases  of  degenera- 
tion, diseases  affecting  the  heart  and  arteries, 
diseases  of  the  digestive  and  eliminative  organs 
and  of  mental  diseases  and  diseases  of  the  nerv- 
ous system.  We  are  perplexed  to  hear  that  the 
percentage  of  mothers  who  are  willing  or  able 
to  nurse  their  own  babies  becomes  yearly  smaller. 


252  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

While  applied  science  has  shown  us  how  to  quad- 
ruple our  wealth  and  increase  indefinitely  the 
fertility  of  our  soil,  it  has  shown  us  how  to  de- 
crease the  fertility  of  our  women;  and  since  the 
new  art  is  becoming  fashionable  among  our  best 
people  but  not  among  our  worst,  we  have  the 
unhappy  prospect  of  actual  racial  deterioration, 
already  evinced  by  an  increase  of  feeble-minded- 
ness,  insanity,  and  crime.  When  bank  robberies 
flourish  during  a  time  of  unlimited  prosperity,  at 
a  time  when  almost  any  person  can  get  work  at 
almost  any  wages,  it  would  appear  that  the 
trouble  is  not  in  our  social  institutions,  but  in  the 
convolutions  of  our  brains. 

Nature  seems  to  have  discovered  many  ages 
ago  that  the  way  to  make  any  race  of  animals 
or  men  strong  and  hardy  was  not  to  shield  them 
from  their  enemies,  but  to  give  them  power  of 
resistance  against  their  enemies.  As  Professor 
Todd  says:  "A  pasteurized,  sanitized  society  is 
not  necessarily  progressive  or  dynamic."  1 

Is  it  too  much  to  hope  that  in  the  period  of 
reconstruction  to  which  we  are  looking  forward, 
science  may  be  applied  less  to  shielding  us  from 
all  manner  of  dangers  and  evils,  and  more  to 
making  us  strong  to  overcome  evils;  less  to  the 

1  Theories  of  Social  Progress,  p.  122. 


NEXT  STEP  IN  APPLIED  SCIENCE    253 

production  of  comforts  and  conveniences,  and 
more  to  the  encouragement  of  hardihood  and 
vigor;  less  to  the  increase  of  efficiency  and  the 
piling-up  of  wealth,  and  more  to  the  production 
of  racial  health  and  stability? 

Science  has  always  been  applied,  and  success- 
fully, to  our  immediate  needs  as  they  were  un- 
derstood. The  immediate  needs  of  our  present 
time  are  not  more  wealth  and  more  luxury  and 
more  efficiency,  but  more  racial  and  constitu- 
tional power  of  resistance  to  physical  disease 
and  more  individual  power  of  resistance  to  every 
alluring  immediate  joy  which  threatens  the 
permanent  welfare  of  society.  We  need  steadi- 
ness and  self-control  and  the  limitation  of  our 
desires.  The  centrifugal  motive  which  has  ruled 
the  world  for  the  last  fifty  years  has  gone  far 
enough.  The  world  is  small  and  there  are  limits, 
to  the  expansive  opportunities  both  of  the  na- 
tion and  the  individual. 

This,  of  course,  will  be  applied  science  in  a 
broad  sense,  applied  psychology,  applied  ethics, 
applied  sociology,  applied  biology,  applied  phi- 
losophy —  and  the  growing  interest  in  these  sci- 
ences is  one  of  the  fine  things  of  the  present  time. 

There  is  finally  another  field  where  there  is  an 


254  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

immediate  and  imperative  demand  for  the  ap- 
plication of  science,  and  that  is  in  our  industrial 
labor  disputes.  One  wonders  to  what  extent  the 
conflicts  between  labor  and  capital  may  be  due 
to  sheer  ignorance.  At  any  rate,  it  was  evident 
enough  in  the  coal  strike  in  the  fall  of  1919  that 
there  was  shameful  ignorance  throughout  the 
whole  country,  and  in  the  highest  places,  of  the 
actual  facts  about  the  coal  industry.  On  every 
side  there  was  a  superabundance  of  feeling,  sym- 
pathy, anger,  indignation,  mistrust,  greed,  fear, 
but  a  serious  lack  of  knowledge.  We  abounded  in 
the  Christian  virtues  of  faith,  hope,  and  charity, 
but  our  stock  of  knowledge,  which  in  the  So- 
cratic  philosophy  is  the  beginning  and  end  of 
virtue,  was  perilously  low.  In  the  merely  me- 
chanical part  of  coal-mining,  as  in  other  indus- 
tries, applied  science  is  everywhere  in  evidence; 
in  the  sociological  and  psychological  aspects  of 
these  industries,  it  is  conspicuously  absent.  In 
this  age  of  organized  labor  and  organized  cap- 
ital, it  is  a  wonder  that  we  have  not  bethought 
ourselves  of  the  experiment  of  organized  intelli- 
gence.1 There  is  plenty  to  think  about  in  the 
following  quotations  from  a  recent  article  by 
Felix  Frankfurter  in  the  Yale  Review: 

1  Compare  Will  Durant,  Philosophy  and  the  Social  Problem,  part 
ii,  chap.  in. 


NEXT  STEP  IN  APPLIED  SCIENCE    255 

The  recent  coal  strike  reveals  shortcomings  that 
not  even  the  largest  headlines  of  "law  and  order"  can 
conceal.  The  strike  was  called  off  but  its  causes  per- 
sist. This  is  not  the  time  for  a  scrutinizing  study. 
Whatever  negotiation  may  accomplish,  whatever 
ameliorations  will  be  sought  for  the  distempers  which 
have  been  aroused  by  the  shallow  recklessness  of  in- 
voking the  injunction  under  plea  of  the  war  power, 
the  fundamental  lesson  of  the  strike  will  be  lost  un- 
less out  of  it  comes  the  common  consciousness  of  the  sin 
of  ignorance  and  the  failure  to  fashion  instrumeyits  of 
knowledge  for  action.  Inevitably,  every  one  had  an 
opinion  about  the  strike.  But  who  had  justification 
for  such  opinion  founded  on  knowledge  of  the  coal 
industry,  and,  especially,  knowledge  of  the  condi- 
tions of  life  that  confront  those  400,000  workers? 

The  indictment  of  our  civilization  is  that  some  of 
the  facts  vitally  affecting  the  coal  problem  are  not  to 
be  had.  To  a  large  extent  any  decision  as  to  hours  and 
wages  is  "a  game  of  blindman's  buff  "  —  blindman's 
buff  tempered  by  force  and  necessity.  Here  is,  in- 
deed, not  only  one  of  our  greatest  industries,  but  (as 
it  is  insisted  upon  as  though  it  were  the  solution  in- 
stead of  the  statement  of  the  problem)  "a  basic  in- 
dustry" —  the  very  flame  of  life.  Yet  have  we  sought 
to  know  it,  to  master  it,  in  a  sensible  and  fore- 
thoughtful way  to  avoid  being  trapped  by  our  de- 
pendence upon  it?  .  .  .  We  should  get  what  help  we 
can  from  the  workings  of  the  Whitley  Councils  in 
England,  similar  councils  in  this  country  in  the  cloth- 
ing and  printing  industries,  the  very  hopeful  results 
already  achieved  by  the  Government  through  its  new 
methods  in  the  Rock  Island  Arsenal,  where  men  pro- 
duce primarily  because  they  want  to.  Every  success- 
ful experiment  must  be  explored  with  the  scientist's 


256  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

faith  that  a  promising  exception  can  be  made  the  rule. 
In  a  word,  we  must  see  these  industrial  difficulties  as 
a  challenge  to  social  engineering,  to  be  grappled  with  as 
the  medical  and  the  physical  sciences  meet  their  prob- 
lems. Epidemics  were  once  deemed  to  be  visitations 
of  God,  but  now  Dr.  Simon  Flexner  summons  his 
profession  consciously  to  master  epidemics.  The 
Rockefeller  Institute,  by  a  steady  and  systematic 
process,  first  seeks  to  state  the  problems  of  disease 
and  then  persists  until  it  finds  answers.  A  transconti- 
nental telephone  was  not  the  product  of  a  sudden 
flash  of  genius  nor  the  gift  of  happy  accident.  On  the 
contrary,  it  was  a  task  definitely  set  to  mathemati- 
cians and  physicists.  Human  will  and  intelligence  and 
persisting  faith  achieved  the  miracle.  So  it  must  be 
in  industry.  The  present  obstacles  to  production  — 
the  lack  of  right  human  relations,  the  evocation  of 
the  creative  impulses  in  workers  —  are  problems  to 
be  solved;  for  upon  their  solution  depends  the  quality 
of  our  civilization.1 

Specific  directions  in  which  science  may  be 
applied  to  human  welfare  are  found  in  conserva- 
tion and  education,  and  in  eugenic  control.  Sci- 
ence has  already  been  applied  to  the  conserva- 
tion of  our  soils  and  forests.  It  must  be  more 
widely  applied  to  the  conservation  of  all  our 
physical  and  mental  resources  and  particularly 
to  the  conservation  of  racial  values.  It  may  be 
feared,  however,  that  both  these  forms  of  con- 

1  Felix  Frankfurter,  "Law  and  Order,"  Yale  Review ',  January, 
1920,  pp.  227,  234.  (The  italics  are  mine.) 


NEXT  STEP  IN  APPLIED  SCIENCE    257 

servation  imply  a  degree  of  self-control  and 
self-sacrifice  which  is  foreign  to  the  spirit  of  this 
individualistic  age. 

In  the  reconstruction  era  which  we  are  ap- 
proaching, the  danger  is  that  in  the  spirit  of  the 
times  we  shall  attempt  to  solve  the  profound 
social  problems  which  confront  us  mainly  in  two 
ways:  first,  by  the  further  development  of  the 
mechanical  and  industrial  arts,  and,  second,  by 
the  manipulation  of  political  institutions.  We 
shall  try,  by  means  of  new  labor-saving  and 
time-saving  devices  and  new  mechanical  appli- 
ances, to  multiply  still  further  the  wealth  of  the 
world.  We  shall  try,  by  means  of  some  form  of 
Socialism  or  Syndicalism,  to  provide  that  this 
wealth  be  more  equitably  distributed  than  it  is 
at  present.  We  shall  try  by  the  further  extension 
of  democracy  and  by  equal  votes  for  women  to 
provide  that  justice  prevail  more  widely  than 
now.  We  shall  try  by  sumptuary  laws  to  see  that 
drunkenness  is  prohibited.  Certainly  many  of 
these  proposals  are  of  the  highest  value;  it  is 
only  that  we  shall  rely  too  much  upon  this  ma- 
chinery for  the  salvation  of  society,  and  shall 
insist  too  little  upon  such  other  factors  as  educa- 
tion, conservation,  self-control,  and  the  limita- 
tion of  desires. 


258  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

It  would  appear,  therefore,  that  in  the  recon- 
struction programme  of  the  future,  we  must 
proceed  along  other  lines  than  those  of  our  pres- 
ent popular  movements.  We  must  cease  our 
efforts  at  trying  to  make  men  comfortable  and 
begin  to  make  them  better.  Civilization  does  not 
depend  upon  the  increase  of  wealth,  or  its  equal 
distribution.  It  depends  upon  the  proportion  of 
dominant  and  effective  men  and  women;  upon 
the  production  of  leaders  possessing  initiative, 
daring,  creative  and  constructive  powar;  and  it 
depends  upon  discipline,  poise,  loyalty,  devotion, 
and  mental  and  moral  health.  Most  of  all,  per- 
haps, it  depends  upon  the  conservation  of  moral 
values. 

Perhaps  one  of  the  most  distressing  signs  of 
the  times  is  the  increase  of  inefficiency  —  at  the 
very  moment  when  we  have  laid  so  much  stress 
upon  efficiency.  We  have  indeed  acquired  a  kind 
of  efficiency  in  business,  which  has  no  value 
except  to  further  enhance  our  wealth.  But  it 
would  appear  that  vital  efficiency  and  physical 
efficiency  are  lessening.  It  is  a  bad  sign  when 
people  dread  the  hard  work  of  the  farm  and  seek 
the  easier  jobs  and  the  shorter  hours  of  the  city, 
or  refuse  to  work  at  all  if  they  have  a  little 
money  in  their  pockets.  With  our  increase  of 


NEXT  STEP  IN  APPLIED  SCIENCE    259 

wealth  on  the  one  hand  and  on  the  other  the 
decrease  of  vitality  or  vital  efficiency,  our  glit- 
tering civilization  may  be  near  the  fate  of  other 
civilizations  of  the  past.  Its  complete  breakdown 
is  not  impossible,  with  unrest  increasing  to  the 
point  of  violent  revolution  with  its  accompany- 
ing anarchy,  misery,  starvation,  depopulated 
cities,  and  neglected  fields.  And  if  our  present 
civilization  does  go  down,  there  are  apparently 
no  reserves  of  vital  power  in  the  outlying  dis- 
tricts of  the  earth,  as  there  were  in  the  days  of 
Rome,  to  replenish  the  impoverished  blood  of 
the  people;  for  the  effectives  of  all  races  are  now 
drawn  to  the  great  industrial  and  commercial 
centers  and  their  vigor  exploited  for  the  glory  of 
the  present  day,  not  for  racial  conservation.1 

Probably  nothing  so  cataclysmic  will  happen. 
In  free  America  at  any  rate  such  an  outcome  is 
improbable.  The  great  body  of  our  people  are 
sober-minded  and  level-headed.  At  heart  they 
appreciate  the  joy  and  freedom  of  democratic 
America.  After  the  disturbing  influences  of  the 
war  are  past  —  influences  which  may  indeed  for 
a  time  bring  about  real  suffering  and  distress  — 

1  Compare  Seth  K.  Humphrey,  The  Racial  Prospect,  chaps. 
viii  and  ix,  and  Brooks  Adams,  The  Laws  of  Civilization  and 
Decay,  chap.  xn. 


26o  SOCIAL  RECONSTRUCTION 

our  country  will  right  itself.  We  shall  go  forward 
on  our  way  —  and  then  we  shall  be  face  to  face 
with  the  real  evils  that  threaten  an  industrial 
age,  an  age  actuated  by  industrial  and  material- 
istic motives,  namely,  stagnation  and  the  loss  of 
the  higher  values  of  life. 


THE  END 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Achievement,  54,  94;  a  funda- 
mental human  need,  147-48, 

I99.\ . 

Acquisition,  instinct  of,  75,  77, 
102. 

Activity,  source  of  happiness, 
47,  52,  56,  150,  175,  187. 

Adams,  Brooks,  The  Law  of  Civ- 
ilization and  Decay,  259  n. 

Adams,  G.  P.,  Idealism  and  the 
Modern  Age,  53,  95  n. 

Adventure,  love  of,  78,  79,  85, 
200. 

Agrarian  Socialism,  143. 

Alcohol,  1,  3,  71,  74,  109,  137; 
dry  laws,  41. 

Altruism,  192. 

America,  as  a  field  for  opportu- 
nity, 102,  105,  112,  138,  168- 
73,  200-01. 

Amusement  crazes,  3,  88. 

Anarchism,  27,  143. 

Anarchy,  9,  213. 

Anderson,  B.  M.,  Social  Value, 
56  n. 

Arbitration,  153. 

Aristotle,  47,  52,  130,  197. 

Art,  107,  108,  no,  161,  179,  191, 
1 93 ,205,  229.  _ 

Athenian  race,  intelligence  of, 
179. 

Athens,  ancient,  205. 

Authority,  respect  for,  188. 

Autocracy,  178. 

Augustine,  St.,  City  of  God,  32. 


Babbitt,  Irving,  177,  192;  Rous- 
seau and  Romanticism,  174  n. 

Bacon,  Francis,  vii,  26. 

Bagley,  W.  C,  14  n.,  226  n. 

Balked  disposition,  64,  76. 

Barnich,  G.,  Principes  de  poli- 
tique positive  d^apres  Solvay, 
49  n. 

Bell,  Clive,  130. 

Bentham,  J.,  36. 

Bergson,  51  n.,  182. 

Birth  control,  42. 

Birth-rate,  decline  of,  12,  24,  71. 

Bloomfield,  Meyer,  Manage- 
ment and  Men,  152  n. 

Bolshevism,  9-10,  27,  100. 

Booker,  J.  M.,  165. 

Brain,  modern  demands  upon, 
241. 

Brain  patterns,  defective,  208. 

Brotherhood,  207. 

Browning,  182. 

Building  instinct,  166,  199. 

Butler,  N.  M.,  Is  America 
Worth  Saving?  20  n. 

Byron,  Letters  and  Journals, 
197. 

Cabot,  R.  C,  159;  What  Men 
Live  By,  119,  122. 

Cannon,  W.  B.,  38. 

Capital  and  Labor,  19,  29,  32, 
120,  152,  216,  245,  254. 

Capitalism,  psychological  as- 
pects of,  75-7J*. 


264 


INDEX 


Carlyle,  Past  and  Present^  122. 

Centrifugal  forces  in  society, 
chap,  vi,  181,  183,  188,  193, 
203-04,  253. 

Centripetal  forces  in  society, 
181,  188,  199-236. 

Changing  social  order,  18,  197. 

Chaperons  for  university  stu- 
dents, 217. 

Charity,  192-93. 

Chastity,  179. 

Chautauqua  plan,  85-89. 

Child  labor,  19,  42. 

Christian  civilization,  17. 

Christian  Endeavor,  53  n. 

Christian  virtues,  182,  191,  254. 

Christianity,  182. 

Church,  204,  213,  216. 

Cigarette  habit,  92. 

Civilization,  at  the  cross-roads, 
vii;  Christian,  17,  104;  dan- 
gers threatening,  9,  259; 
downfall  of,  6,  212;  has  it 
come  to  an  impasse?  236;  is  it 
worth  saving?  13,  15,  115; 
modern,  2,  3,  5,  7,_  14,  iy, 
tests  of  a  good  civilization, 
244. 

Coffee,  s 3  n-,  13  7- 

Collecting,  instinct  of,  63,  102. 

Collective  bargaining,  19,  50, 
152.  _ 

Collective  management,  144, 
150,  167. 

Collective  ownership,  143-44, 
150,  153,  167. 

Collectivism,  27,  143,  209. 

Comfort  regime,  242. 

Comforts  and  luxuries,  109,  115, 


116,  117,  132,  147,  191,  224, 

230-40;  danger  of;  240. 
Communism,  9,  27,  148. 
Communities,  small,  224. 
Community  spirit,  205. 
Conative  impulse,  51. 
Conflict,  love  of,  86. 
Conscience,  social,  17. 
Conservation,  34,  94,  149,  191, 

256-57;  of  racial  health,  93- 

94,  259. 
Control,  social,  215-16,  220,231. 
Cooperation,  27,  143,  150,  207, 

212. 
Craftsman,  man  as,   127,   132, 

139; 
Creative  impulse,  94,  127,  131, 

155,  200. 
Creative  work,  115,  135,  139. 
Crime,  193;  waves  of,  9,  107. 
Criminals,  instinctive,  232-33. 
Cross,  symbol  of,  213. 
Culture,  pecuniary,  140,  145. 

Dancing,  3,  96,  137,  217,  217  n. 
Dancing  craze,  1,  12  n.,  107. 
Danger,  love  of,  83. 
Decadence,  25,  183;  moral,  12; 

physical,  mental  and  moral, 

11-12. 
Defectives,  12,  13,  173,  201,  211, 

232-34- 

Degeneracy,  11-13,  118;  dis- 
eases of,  251;  physical,  241; 
racial,  252. 

Delinquent  classes,  211. 

Democracy,  21,  202,  218-19, 
223,  257;  industrial,  50,  150- 
53,  167;  social,  143. 


INDEX 


265 


Democratization  of  industries, 

I50-S3. 
Dentistry,   modern,   239,    247- 

48. 
Desires,  human,  48,  49,  55,  150; 

limitation  of,  187-88,  193-94, 

253,  257. 
Devotion,  96-100,  258. 
Discipline,  210,  213,  258;  social, 

47,  137,  174,  190,  199-236. 
Disease,  188;  conquest  of,  239, 

248-53;  diseases  of  degenera- 
tion, 251. 
Disintegrating  forces  in  society, 

203-04. 
Dominion,  love  of,  78,  82. 
Drama,  178,  193;  modern,  183, 

204. 
Drudgery,  115,  130-31,  140-42, 

154- 

Durant,  Will,    Philosophy   and 

the  Social  Problem,  254  n. 
Duty,  186,  211. 

Economic  age,  35. 

Economic  conditions  of  poverty, 
104. 

Economic  forces,  109. 

Economic  injustice,  208. 

Economic  motives  and  the  war, 
83  n. 

Economic  value,  49,  176. 

Economics  and  social  reconstruc- 
tion, 35,  38. 

Economics,  influence  of,  56. 

Economics,  new  character  of, 
55  n. 

Economists,  40-43. 

Education,  115,  162,  215,  223, 


225-32,  236-37,  245,  256;  de- 
ficiencies shown  in  draft  sta- 
tistics, 14;  industrial,  165-66; 
moralized,  235;  outside  of 
schools,  227. 

Efficiency,  120,  139,  180,  187, 
258. 

Eliot,  Charles  W.,  152,  162  n. 

Ellwood,  C.  A.,  The  Social 
Problem,  234. 

Emulation,  instinct  of,  141,  142, 

154. 
Endeavor,  Christian,  53  n. 
Energy,  vital,  199;  spirit  of  in 

western  races,  200. 
English  peasants,  16. 
Equalitarianism,  HO. 
Equality,  180,  191. 
Eugenics,  38,  42,  234-35,  256. 
Everett,  W.  G.,  Moral  Values, 

56  n. 
Exercise,    of   normal   function, 

125,  199;  of  powers,  vii,  56, 

189.  f 
Expansion,    194;   as   a   modern 

tendency,  109,  177,  183,  185; 

expansive  age,  191,  193;  ex- 
pansive virtues,  182. 
Exploited  classes,  43. 
Extravagance,  9. 

Fairchild,  H.  P.,  Outline  of  Ap- 
plied Sociology,  71  n. 

Family,  91,  204. 

Farmers,  prosperity  of,  15-16, 
170. 

Feeble-minded,  232-34. 

Feeble-mindedness,  increase  of, 
252. 


266 


INDEX 


Feminism,  27,  94-96. 

Ferrero,  G.,  Ancient  Rome  and 

Modern  America,  95  n.,  174  n. 
Fiction,  modern,  204,  227. 
Fielding,  W.  J.,  136. 
Fine  Arts,  107-08,  no,  161,  179, 

191,  193,  229. 
Flexner,  Simon,  256. 
Folks,  Homer,  249  n. 
Football,  example  of  discipline, 

210. 
Fourteen  Points,  17. 
Frankfurter,  Felix,  254. 
Fraternities,  college,  221. 
Fraternity,  180. 
Freedom,  over-emphasis  of,  177, 

183,  219,  224. 
Freud,  38. 

Freudian  ethics,  189-90. 
Freudian  psychology,  1,  5,  6,  40, 

189. 
Function,   normal   function   of 

man,  125. 

Galton,  Francis,  Hereditary  Gen- 
ius, 67  n.,  179. 

Gambling,  78,  80-81,  ill. 

Germany,  194,  212,  244;  bdore 
the  war,  82. 

Giddings,  F.  H.,  147  n. 

God,  105,  107,  123;  the  God 
idea,  106;  Greek  gods,  123; 
not  a  laborer,  123. 

Goethe,  182. 

Gothic  cathedrals,  193. 

Government,  widening  of  func- 
tions, 218. 

Grant,  Madison,  Passing  of  the 
Great  Race,  67  n. 


Great  Britain,  7. 

Grecian  civilization,  179. 

Greed,  16,  17,  194. 

Greek  gods,  123. 

Greeks,  ancient,  181,  191,  200. 

Gregariousness,  63,  68,  172;  ag- 
gressive, 213-14,  215  n.,  224, 
236;  socialized,  215;  defen- 
sive, 215  n.,  224,  236. 

Group  solidarity,  100,  205,  213. 

Group  spirit,  205. 

Guild,  industrial,  224. 

Guild  socialism,  134,  142,  155. 

Guild  State,  159  n. 

Happiness,  found  in  activity, 
52;  highest,  187. 

Harley,  J.  H.,  Syndicalism, 
158  n. 

Health,  racial,  14,  34,  91,  193, 
253;  mental  and  moral,  258; 
national,  42,  104;  physical  de- 
fects, 14. 

Hedonism,  psychological,  55. 

Heroism,  192. 

History,  50,  212;  economic  in- 
terpretation of,  37,  124,  216. 

Hobhouse,  L.  T.,  209. 

Hocking,  W.  E.,  Human  Nature 
and  its  Remaking,  36  n.,  61  n., 
115,  158  n.,  190  n. 

Holt,  E.  B.,  The  Freudian  Wish, 
52  n. 

Huddleston,  Sisley,  9  n. 

Human  nature,  10;  plasticity 
of,  64-68. 

Humanity,  service  of,  234. 

Humphrey,  Seth  K.,  The  Racial 
Prospect,  13,  259  n.,  234. 


INDEX 


267 


Hygiene,  71;  application  of  sci- 
ence to,  247-53;  social,  250. 

Idealism,  modern,  16,  17,  103. 

Illiteracy,  211. 

Impulse,  see  Instinct. 

Impulses,  egoistic,  189-90,  210; 
inhibition  of,  190-91;  inven- 
tive, 127;  repression  of,  70, 
74,  76,  189. 

Increased    production,     36-37, 

132-33- 

Individualism,  148,  216,  234;  in- 
dividual age,  257;  individual 
responsibility,  217-18. 

Industrial  age,  139-40. 

Industrial  arts,  237-44. 

Industrial  democracy,  21,  27, 
164,  167. 

Industrial  education,  165-66. 

Industrial  labor,  115,  121,  124- 
25,  138;  as  drudgery,  143. 

Industrial  organization  of  soci- 
ety, 125. 

Industrial  partnership,  167. 

Industrial  revolution,  23,  193. 

Industrial  system,  168. 

Industrialism,  83  n.;  its  psy- 
chological foundation,  124. 

Industries,  democratization  of, 
150-53;  socialized,  142. 

Inequality,  84,  1 17,  187-88. 

Inhibition,  of  impulses,  190; 
weakening  of  our  traditional 
inhibitions,  191. 

Initiative,  169,  171,  200. 

Inner  check,  184,  189,  193. 

Instinct,  46,  51,  61-70;  building 
instinct,  166,  199;  capitalized, 


120;  its  relation  to  work,  126; 

of  exploration  and  invention, 

127;    of    workmanship,    121, 

126,  129,  142,  156,  168,  171; 

opportunity  for  expression  of 

in  America,  102;  sublimation 

of,  189. 
Integrating  forces,  188. 
Integration,    social,    174,    181, 

202-36. 
Intelligence,  organization  of,  25, 

236,  254. 
Intemperance,  187. 
Internationalism,  205-06,  223. 
Inventive    impulse,    127,    169, 

171. 
I.W.W.,  27,  100. 

Jacks,  L.  P.,  224  n. 

James,  William,  59,  86;  Princi' 
pies  of  Psychology,  61  n. 

Jean  Christophe,  182. 

Jesus,  sayings  of,  108,  190. 

Journalism,  228-29. 

Jung,  C.  G.,  The  Theory  of  Psy- 
choanalysis, 52  n. 

Justice,  184-85,  197,  202-03, 
205-06;  Platonic,  31,  202. 

Kant,  his  rule  of  action,  198. 

Katharsis,  6. 

Keynes,  J.  M.,  Economic  Conse- 
quences of  the  Peace,  17  n. 

Knowledge,  lack  of  in  industrial 
disputes,  254,  256;  source  of 
social  welfare,  225. 

Labor,  87-88,  119;  creative  la- 
bor,    115,    135;    crisis,    118; 


268 


INDEX 


drudgery,  115,  130-31,  140- 
42,  147;  hours  per  day,  112; 
humanized,  164;  industrial, 
121,  254;  labor-saving  de- 
' vices,  242;  place  of  in  man's 
life,  120-73;  productive,  44; 
unions,  206,  224. 

Law  and  order,  204,  212;  re- 
spect for,  188. 

Laws,  of  thought,  197;  obedi- 
ence to,  219;  sumptuary,  257. 

Leaders,  social,  235-36,  258. 

Leadership,  instinctive  need  of, 
76. 

League  of  Nations,  21,  27,  58- 
59,  69  n.,  188,  206,  214,  245. 

Leibniz,  243. 

Leisure,  57,  109,  117,  126,  150, 
158-64,  191,  243;  leisure 
classes,  162. 

Leitch,  John,  Man  to  Man;  the 
Story  of  Industrial  Democracy, 
151  n. 

Liberty,  180,  185,  191,  218-19. 

Life,  26,  45,  78,  89,  107-08,  119; 
dynamic  conception  of,  56; 
enhancement  of,  183;  what 
real  life  is,  101,  105,  119,  128, 
158,  164,  169,  199;  its  real 
prizes,  1 16-17;  the  full,  free, 
and  abundant  life,  175-76, 
181,  184,  186,  192. 

Limitation,  179,  185,  191;  of  de- 
sires, 187,  193-94,  253,  257. 

Lippmann,  Walter,.  55  n.;  A 
Preface  to  Politics,  36  n. 

Liquors,  beer,  wine,  etc.,  2,  3. 

Literature,  193. 

Love,  119,  182,  192. 


Loyalty,  96-100,  105,  107,  187, 
190,  206-07,  220-22,  258; 
group,  69;  to  state,  223. 

Luxuries,  109,  1 15-16,  133,  147, 
240. 

Lynching,  73. 

Macaulay,  vii,  222. 

Man,  the  real  man  of  the  pres- 
ent, m-12;  a  being  who 
strives,  112;  as  creative  gen- 
ius, 129. 

Marot,  Helen,  Creative  Impulse 
in  Industry,  36  n. 

Marvin,  W.  T.,  The  History  of 
European  Philosophy,  235-36. 

Masculine  age,  53  n.,  94. 

Masterman,  C.  F.  G.,  7. 

Materialism,  234. 

McDougall,  W.,  38,  42,  57  n.; 
An  Introduction  to  Social  Psy- 
chology, 51  n.,  55  n.,  58  n.,  59, 
61  n.,  75. 

Mechanical  arts,  237-44. 

Mechanic  and  industrial   arts, 

257\ 
Medicine,  preventive,  239. 

Military  impulses,  80. 

Minimum  wage,  19,  50. 

Mitchell,  W.  C,  36  n.,  41,  54  n., 

55  i\ 
Mobilizing  a  nation,  207,  209, 

213. 
Moderation,  191. 
Monks,  virtues  of,  179. 
Morale,  social,   207,   210,   214, 

220. 
Morality,  no,  197;  revaluation 

of,  235. 


INDEX 


269 


More,  Paul  Elmer,  Platonism, 

174,  184. 
More,  Sir  Thomas,  Utopia,  32. 
Morgan,  J.  J.  B.,  49  n. 
Morris,    William,     Hopes    and 

Fears  for  Art,  145;  News  from 

Nowhere,  156. 
Moving  pictures,  4,  96,  109,  137, 

178,  227,  229-31;  craze,  107; 

remedy    for    poor    pictures, 

230. 
Miinsterberg,  Hugo,  Pyschology 

and      Industrial      Efficiency, 

120  n. 
Murray,  Gilbert,  Four  Stages  of 

Greek  Religion,  123  n. 
Music,  wave  of  bad  music,  12  n., 

229; jazz,  12  n. 
Mystic,  the  modern,  182. 

Napoleon,  221. 
Narcotic  drugs,  88,  137. 
Nationalism,       frenzied,       17; 

source  of  social  integration, 

205-06,  222-24. 
News,  demand  for  sensational, 

229. 
Nietzsche,  83,  176,  182. 
Non-Partisan  League,  27. 
Northerner,  traits  of,  235-36. 

Obedience,  188,  210;  to  laws, 
204,  213,  226. 

Old  Stone  Age,  men  of,  67. 

Opportunity,  14,  33,  37,  43-44, 
49,  57>  I9l»  J92;  America  as  a 
field  for,  102,  105,  112,  138, 
144, 168-73,180,186,  200,  208. 

Organization,  craze  for,  99. 


Osborn,  H.  F.,  Men  of  the  Old 

Stone  Age,  67. 
Our  Country,  loyalty  to,  223. 
Ownership,  instinct  of,  75-76, 

102;  collective,  143,  150,  153- 

54,  167. 

Pain-economy,  43,  45,  88. 

Parental  bent,  90. 

Parker,  Carleton  H.,  38,  40,  42, 
61  n.,  62,  77,  129  n.,  190  n. 

Partnership,  industrial,  167. 

Patriotism,  no,  225. 

Patten,  S.  N.,  41,  51  n. 

Peace  and  plenty,  57,  109. 

Peace  societies,  2. 

Pearson,  Charles  H.,  National 
Life  and  Character,  no. 

Pearson,  Karl,  Tuberculosis,  He- 
redity and  Environment,  249. 

Peasants,  English,  16. 

Pecuniary  culture,  140,  145. 

Perry,  R.  B.,  197  n. 

Philanthropy,  modern,  12. 

Philosophers,  25. 

Philosophy  of  life,  28,  176. 

Philosophy  of  reconstruction 
movements,  28. 

Plato,  184-85,  237;  Republic,  32, 
232^ 

Platonic  justice,  31,  202. 

Play,  53  n.,  83,  128-29,  164,  212. 

Pleasure-economy,  43-45,  88. 

Political  impulses,  157. 

Political  institutions,  manipula- 
tion of,  257. 

Population,  increase  of,  71,  194. 

Posterity,  provision  for,  47,  50, 
202,  210. 


270 


INDEX 


Poverty,  37,  103,  117,  172,  179, 
187,  200,  242;  causes  of,  104. 

Powell,  E.  A.,  4. 

Predatory  practices,  217. 

Price  boosting,  208. 

Production,  increased,  36-37, 
116,  132-33. 

Profanity  in  American  army, 
72. 

Profiteering,  4,  207-08,  217. 

Profit-sharing,  150,  167. 

Progress,  6,  216;  springs  of,  231; 
modern,  15-23. 

Prohibition,  21,  27,  39. 

Proletariat,  124. 

Prostitution,  90. 

Psychogenetic  method,  50;  psy- 
chogenetic  standpoint,  28. 

Psychology,  of  social  reforms, 
28;  behavioristic,  40-41;  re- 
cent, 50-52;  primary  impor- 
tance for  social  sciences,  54  n.; 
of  collective  ownership,  153; 
possibilities  of  applied,   245, 

253. 

Public  good,  46. 

Public  opinion,  as  source  of  con- 
trol, 215-16. 

Pugnacity,  58-59,  69,  187. 

Purity  of  the  family,  197. 

Putnam,  James  Jackson,  Hu- 
man Motives,  97  n. 

Racial  slackers,  13. 

Racial  values,  34. 

Recreation,  89. 

Relaxation,  psychology  of,  88  n., 

164. 
Religion,     no,    205,    225;    as 


source  of  control,  215;  Chris- 
tian, 221;  new  interpretation 
of,  236;  revaluation  of,  235. 

Repression,  method  of,  96;  of 
native  impulses,  70,  74,  76, 
189. 

Resistance,    needed    power   of, 

253. 

Responsibility,  of  journalists, 
fiction  writers  and  moving 
picture  makers,  228;  individ- 
ual, 217-18. 

Restraint,  183,  188,  193-94,  204. 

Revolt,  heralds  of,  216. 

Revolution,  213. 

Rome,  how  mobilized,  213. 

Ross,  E.  A.,  38;  Social  Control, 
124,  215;  What  is  America? 
20  n.;  Principles  of  Sociology, 
29  n.;  Sin  and  Society,  219. 

Rousseau,  237,  239. 

Russell,  Bertrand,  Why  Men 
Fight,  56  n.,  83  n. 

Sacrifice,  108. 

Sanitation,  239;  application  of 
science  to,  247-53. 

Scale  of  living,  adequate,  116. 

Schiller,  Das  Lied  von  der 
Glocke,  200  n. 

Schmucker,  S.  C,  The  Meaning 
of  Evolution,  18  n. 

Schools,  226;  deficiency  of  our 
school  system,  14  n.,  226;  va- 
cations, 163. 

Schopenhauer,  51  n. 

Science,  applied,  237-60;  and 
mechanic  arts,  7,  36;  as  basis 
of  social  control,  232;  ques- 


INDEX 


271 


*  tion  of  its  practical  benefits, 

chap.  viii. 
Scott,  W.  D.,  Increasing  Human 

Efficiency  in  Business,  120  n. 
Sculpture,  179-80. 
Self-control,  24,  47,95,  185,  188, 

192,  204,  253,  257. 
Self-expression,     171,     175-78, 

180-85. 
Self-realization,  45-46,  176-77, 

180-82,  185-86,  210. 
Self,  social,  211. 
Sex  consciousness,  new  wave  of, 

96;  instinct  of,  90-91. 
Sexes,  equality  of,  91-92. 
Shop  councils,  50. 
Sin,  Magda's  theory  of,  183;  see 

also  Sinners. 
Single  tax,  27. 
Sinners,  silk  hat  and  syndicate, 

219. 
Social  control,  23,  215-16,  231. 
Social  democracy,  27,  143. 
Social  discipline,  47,   137,   174, 

190,  199-236. 
Social  diseases,  90. 
Social  evils,  20,  21,  29;  our  pe- 
culiar consciousness  of,  122. 
Social    integration,     174,     181, 

202-36. 
Socialism,  21,  27,  39,  100,  128, 

148,  149,  186,  216,  218,  225, 

257;  agrarian,  143;  guild,  134, 

142,  155. 
Socialized  industries,  142,  158. 
Social  justice,  19,  31. 
Social  order,   changing,   1 8-20, 

68;  profound  changes  in  20th 

century,  22. 


Social  problem,  solution  of,  236. 

Social  reconstruction,  and  eco- 
nomics, 35,  38;  a  new  kind  of, 
223;  Apostles'  Creed  of,  31; 
complexity  of,  58;  programme 
of,  30-34;  romantic  tenden- 
cies, 37. 

Social  solidarity,  212;  condi- 
tions of,  220. 

Social  stability,  1 16,  202-03. 

Social  system,  defects  of  our 
present,  15. 

Social  unrest,  14,  111-12,  146, 
190. 

Social  welfare,  46,  116,  148,  176, 
238. 

Sociology,  215. 

Socrates,  235. 

Sombart,  55  n. 

Sorel,  G.,  88  n. 

Spencer,  Herbert,  Autobiogra- 
phy, 125  n. 

Spiritual  and  economic  values, 
108. 

Stagnation,  social,  118,  148. 

St.  Augustine,  City  of  God,  32. 

State,  204-06,  213-15,  219,  222; 
proposals  to  abolish,  156-58; 
state-owned  railroads,  141; 
socialistic,  128,  186;  the  per- 
fect, 187. 

Stirling-Taylor,  G.  R.,  The 
Guild  State,  159  n. 

Strand  orchestra,  229. 

Strikes,  81,  118,  132,  137,  155; 
recent  coal  strike,  225-56. 

Striving,  52,  112,  199. 

Students,  university,  217;  fra- 
ternity, 221. 


272 


INDEX 


Sublimation  of  instinct,  70,  74, 

76,  189. 
Subnormals,  12,  232. 
Sudermann,  Magda,  183. 
Sugar,   increased  consumption, 

S3  n.,137. 
Suggestion,  as  source  of  control, 

215. 
Sympathy,  192. 
Syndicalism,   21,  27,   IOO,   142, 

IS5>  158,  159  n.,  257. 

Taussig,  F.  W.,  Inventors  and 

Money-Makers,  36  n.,  41,  61  n. 
Teachers,    inadequate    salaries 

of,  65-66  n.,  226  n. 
Tead,  Ordway,  38;  Instincts  in 

Industry,  61  n. 
Team-work,  207,  210,  212,  220. 
Temperance,  as  a  Greek  virtue, 

179,  191. 
Thomson,  J.  A.,  88  n. 
Thorndike,    E.   L.,    38,   55    n.; 

Educational    Psychology;    the 

Original  Nature  of  Man,  61  n. 
Time-saving  devices,  242-43. 
Tobacco,  53  n.,  92  n.,  137,  225. 
Todd,  A.  J.,  Theories  of  Social 

Progress,  64  n.,  252. 
Treaty  of  Versailles,  16. 
Trotter,    W.,    Instincts    of   the 

Herd  in  Peace  and  War,  36  n., 

61  n.,  213,  215. 
Trusts,  206. 
Tuberculosis,  effect  of  modern 

methods  of  treating,  248-50. 

Unfitness,  physical,  14. 
Union  labor,  224. 


United   States,   danger  to  our 

civilization,  222. 
Unrest,  14,  ill,  1 18,  136,  150; 

social,  111-12,  146,  190. 
Utopias,  32-33,  84  n.,  105,  117, 

156,  201. 

Values,  real,  116. 
Vaudeville,  231. 
Vaughan,  V.  C,  249  n. 
Veblen,  Thorstein,  38,  41,  55  n.; 

Instinct  of  Workmanship,  61  n., 

64  n.,  68  n.,    123  n.,    138-40; 

The  Theory  of  the  Leisure  Class, 

160. 
Veracity,  197. 
Versailles,  treaty  of,  16. 
Vice,  193. 

Virtues,  Christian,  191. 
Vital  impulse,  47,  51  n. 
Vitality,  decrease  of,  53  n.,  259. 
Votes  for  women,  19,  32,  39,  90- 

92,  188,  257. 

Wage  slavery,  208. 

Wages,  increase  of,  164;  relation 
of  to  unrest,  145. 

Wallace,  A.  R.,  Social  Environ- 
ment and  Moral  Progress,  21. 

Wallas,  Graham,  55  n.;  Human 
Nature  in  Politics,  36  n.;  So- 
cial Environment  and  Moral 
Progress,  21;  The  Great  Soci- 
ety, 36  n. 

Wafling,  W.  E.,  55  n. 

War,  2,  21,  29, 58-59,  69,  80,  86, 
106-07,  109,  187,  207,  210, 
214;  .arbitration  treaties,  2; 
art  of,  244;  civil,   106,  245; 


INDEX 


273 


effects  of  modern  wars,  244- 
45;  effects  upon  victors,  11; 
form  of  social  suicide,  206; 
means  of  preventing,  246; 
menace  to  civilization,  10; 
source  of  in  the  human  brain, 
246. 

Ward,  Lester  F.,  36,  43~445  Ap- 
plied Sociology,  125. 

Watson,  John  B.,  38;  Psychology 
from  the  Standpoint  of  a  Be- 
haviorist,  62  n. 

Wealth,  and  leisure,  109-10, 
117,  191;  danger  of  our  mod- 
ern, 242,  259;  equal  distribu- 
tion, 44,  55,  109,  203,  258;  in- 
creased production,  55. 

Weeks,  A.  D.,  The  Psychology  of 
Citizenship,  131  n. 

Weyl,  W.  E.,  The  New  Democ- 
racy, 20  n.,  84-85  n.,  103  n., 
133,  162  n. 

Whitley  Councils,  151,  255. 


Will  to  live,  51-52,  148. 

Will     to     power,    51-52,     148, 

199. 
Wish,  Freudian,  5;  wish  pulse, 

Woman,  adoration  of,  105;  en- 
franchisement of,  19,  32,  39, 
92,  188;  outgrown  the  doll 
stage,  109;  physical  training, 
20;  value  to  civilization  of 
feminine  traits,  94;  women's 
federated  clubs,  206. 

Work,  57,  87-88,  119;  brain 
workers,  134;  and  wages,  no; 
creative,  115,  126,  140;  hours 
per  day,  112. 

Workingmen's  councils,  206. 

Workmanship,  constructive,  63; 
instinct  of,  121,  126,  129,  142, 
156,  168,  171. 

World  War,  4,  8-9,  38,  44,  69  n., 
142,  201,  205,  238,  241,  259; 
cost  of,  4. 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .    S    .    A 


5  1  \Ck  & 


University  of  California  Library 
Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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